Not Perfect
by GameOn
Summary: Set early S4. Kate survives the bullet but their partnership doesn't. Almost everybody agrees that it's too dangerous for Rick to keep shadowing her, so she kicks him out for his own good. The only problem is that Kate can't seem to go cold turkey.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The usual disclaimers about not owning anything blah, blah, blah. My prediction for early season 4, spoilers for season 3 finale but honestly who hasn't seen it by now? The smut starts with this first chapter so stop here if that kind of thing turns you off.  
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Chapter 1

It's past midnight when Kate arrives at his front door like some stray cat hoping to be fed. She only knocks softly as if she's actually hoping that no-one will hear her and then she can leave but he's opening the door before she can even turn back to the lift. He has a closed circuit camera hooked up to his front door, one of the many security measures that he had installed after she came to stay with him as she recuperated after being shot. He can see her coming from his laptop as he waits for her night after night.

He doesn't say anything because he knows that they will just end up rehashing the fight that they always have if they start talking. Instead he just pulls her in so that he can devour her mouth, even as he walks them backwards towards his bedroom. Clothes start coming off by the time they hit his study, the trail of material litters the path to his bed.

They have to break the kiss in order for him to pull her shirt off but then his mouth is back, it feels like a trail of lava as he licks his way down her neck to the upper slopes of her breast. Her hands grip the sides of his head as she directs him lower until finally his wicked tongue makes contact with her nipple. The moist, warm cavern of his mouth makes the tip tighten even further as he sucks on her skin before he bestows the same treatment to the other side.

She doesn't need to tell him what she wants from him, he can read the response from her body like a blind man with braille. In fact the bedroom is the only place where they seem to be able communicate at all these days, outside these walls there are arguments and standoffs; here there is just perfect agreement.

Kate toes off her shoes as he undoes the button and zipper of her pants, she helps him out by doing a little wriggle of her hips as he pushes down her trousers and underwear in one go and finally he has her naked. It takes her far less work in order to divest him of the t-shirt and robe that he was wearing, his erection springs up to greet her as she pulls his boxers down.

Her fingers automatically encircle him, a little cold still from the weather outside but he doesn't feel it, there's so much blood rushing down there it's like a furnace. Rick pushes his hips towards her so that her hand slides down the length of his cock making it swell even more.

"Oh my god Kate," he whispers the blasphemy against her temple; his eyes clenched shut as he savors the feel of what she's doing to him. With an incoherent moan Rick pushes her onto his bed; he pauses for a second to admire the view before he joins her. He starts at her calves, feathering her body with light kisses as he crawls up the length of her.

"Too slow Rick," she complains as she tries to drag him up quicker but he's not going to be denied. It's been four long days since he last worshipped her body and he's going to make her pay for every second that he's had to wait for her. He pauses at the apex of her thighs, inhaling her musk, the smell of sex and Kate which he'll never get tired of. Even before he slips a finger into her he knows that she'll be hot and wet.

The probing of his finger is a tease, even as she reaches down to grab his hand and hold it there, it's already gone, a last flick over her clit making her shudder before he continues with his journey up her body. The torture is too much to endure and her hands try to capture his cock; to guide it into her as she spreads her legs even more to make it easier but Rick knows all her tricks, his hands capture her wrists and pin them to the bed so that she can't tempt him.

Her hands aren't her only weapon though; she switches tactics and uses her whole body to rub against his. Her breasts are pressed against his chest as she writhes underneath him; her legs encircle his hips so that the shaft of his cock is rubbing along the lips of her sex. He may have her arms imprisoned but it's a double edged sword because it means that he can't put enough space between them to avoid the other things that she is doing to him.

"Please Rick, I need you inside me now."

It's the words said in her low husky moan as well as the heat of her body, burning him at every point where their skin touches, the combination is an irresistible lure into sin and he has to give in. Her hands are suddenly free as he lets go in order to reach down between their bodies, taking himself in hand and positioning the tip at her entrance.

Her moisture coats him as he eases in the first inch, the feeling is indescribable; the closest that he can come is to compare it to pushing into warm, honey drenched silk. Rick pauses for a second as he lifts his head so that he can stare into her eyes, waits for her to acknowledge him, and then his hips piston forward, driving him all the way home.

Kate can feel herself stretching around him, a delicious ache as her body relearns the texture and friction of his erection driving into her; the plump head forcing the walls of her sheath to part, to accept the rigid shaft pushing behind it, the extra grind at the end of his downward descent that rubs his pelvis directly onto the over-sensitized nerves of her clit. She can't help the sobs that come from her throat because it feels too good as his thrusts push her to the edge.

His words come out as a whisper telling her how good she feels, how much her little moans and gasps him on, how much he'd like to stay inside of her forever. He's barely coherent and he has no idea how much of what he's saying actually makes sense but he can't help it; the words just want to burst out of him.

They find an instinctive rhythm; her hips rising up to meet him as he thrusts into her, her inner muscles tightening around him which adds to the friction with each withdrawal.

"I'm close … almost there Rick. Harder please!" she can't help the whimper that escapes her as she begs him for more.

He's thrusting even faster now, slamming into her so forcefully that it drives her body up the bed. Kate raises her hands, bracing them against the head-board so it gives her some counterforce to each of his thrusts. She's teetering on the edge and then his next thrust pushes her over and she's diving head first into a blinding orgasm.

His movements stutter as he feels the ripples of her climax tightening around him and it triggers his own. His hips keep moving, jerky, irregular thrusts as his body concentrates on pumping his semen into her, until finally he comes to a complete standstill, buried deep within her warmth.

When she can think again the first thing that Kate registers is the harsh sound of his breath fanning her ear. His dead weight above her pins her to the bed, it should feel claustrophobic but instead it just feels comforting and she allows herself to enjoy it because she knows what she has to do next.

"Stay please," it's the first thing that he says afterwards.

She would do anything to grant him that, anything but put him in even more danger than she already has. She's always careful, watching out for anyone possibly tailing her but she knows that it's not perfect, there could be eyes anywhere. If she stays any longer and there are people watching her then they'll know that this was more than just a booty call. If she stays then they'll know exactly how important Rick is to her and that risks pulling him back into the maelstrom that is her life.

"I can't Rick," she pushes him off her so that she can get up again. Searching out her clothes, she pulls them back on and forces herself to walk away from him. She's still pulling on her shirt when she pauses by the bedroom door, she doesn't look back because she can't withstand the pleading that she knows will cover his face, so instead she takes the coward's way out and gives him her back.

"We can't do this anymore … I'm sorry," and she leaves.

The soft snick of the lock engaging is the only sound as she exits his loft, he doesn't bother to follow her out of the bedroom or argue with her, this is a dance that they have done before. This time will be the last time, Kate makes the promise to herself but she knows that it is a lie even as she says the words. The truth is that she's an addict and Richard Castle is the hit that she needs, she can hold out for a while but she always come back to him.

It's not just sex, if it was purely a physical thing then that would be easy. She could pick up some random guy at a club or bar; substitute one drug for another. The problem is that Kate's in love with him and she can't make herself let go.

She blames it on that moment when she lay bleeding out in his arms. Each beat of her heart pumped thick, hot blood out of the bullet wound in her side, lowering her blood pressure and the blackness edged closer. Her last lucid memory is his voice, "Kate I love you … I love you Kate…"

If only he hadn't said those fateful words, if only she'd lost consciousness a moment earlier and not heard them, then it would make it so much easier to walk away from him once and for all. If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.

* * *

><p>"She was here again last night wasn't she?" Alexis confronts her dad the next morning as he stumbles, bleary-eyed, into the kitchen.<p>

He's not sure what gave him away but his daughter always seems to know about his nocturnal visitor. Rick just sighs, none of the women in his life are happy with him at the moment.

"Dad you promised me that you wouldn't do this any more," Alexis continues. "I want you to be there for my graduation, to give me away at my wedding, and to congratulate me on your first grandchild. I don't want to see you put yourself in danger again, how do you think I would feel if something happened to you?" She doesn't understand why he keeps doing this to himself, and to his family. It isn't just him goofing around, playing pretend cop with his video 'murder board' and his 'writer' vest. It became all too serious the day that Detective Beckett got shot right in front of them and her dad tried to put his body in the way of that bullet.

"Alexis, I love you and so I agreed that I wouldn't shadow Kate at her work any more and I'm not. You don't want me there, Captain Gates doesn't want me there, and Kate doesn't want me there. So I'm being a good boy and staying away even though it's killing me because she's still in danger and I can't do anything to keep her safe. But I can't stop seeing her, this is my only link to Kate. It's not perfect but it's all that I have."

**A/N: This idea came to me based on an interview that I read, Molly Quinn was talking about how her character is going to make her feelings known in the up coming season. Beckett being shot in the finale has opened Alexis' eyes to what her Dad is really up to and she's not happy about it.**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Alexis shuffles a little bit in her seat trying to get comfortable, but the chair is old, it's cushioned seat long since compressed into a thin layer that affords no real padding at all. This is the last place that she wants to be but she's endured twenty minutes of it already and she's prepared to wait for as long as it takes.

The teenager can see the officers of the 12th precinct moving around the bullpen from her position in the waiting room but the tall, dark-haired detective that she's here to see is nowhere in sight. In fact she doesn't recognize any of the cops; the guy at the front desk had said that Detective Beckett and her team were out at a crime scene.

"_Can I see Detective Beckett please?"_

"_Do you have an appointment to see her?"_

"_Umm, no," it hadn't occurred to her to call beforehand, "if you just tell her that Alexis Castle is here to see her then I'm sure that she'll talk to me."_

_Maybe the guy recognized her from the few times that she's visited her dad at his informal work place or maybe it's just the surname, but he softens slightly._

"_Sorry Beckett and her team are out at a scene at the moment. I'm not sure how long she'll be. Do you want to wait for her or leave a message?"_

_What she needs to say to Beckett isn't really the kind of message that you leave on a Post-it note or a phone call, she wants to do it in person so she opts to wait it out._

Another half an hour passes and the red-head is starting to wonder if Beckett isn't deliberately avoiding her, maybe that other cop had called her and so the detective isn't coming back. Just as that suspicion starts to form Alexis spots a familiar figure exiting from the lift.

Long strides eat up the distance between them as Beckett makes her way over, an anxious expression on her face.

"Alexis, is something wrong? Has something happened to your dad?"

A burst of resentment colors the girl's pale cheeks at that question; the thing that is wrong with her dad is the woman standing in front of her. How can she have the nerve to ask it, as if she thinks that Alexis isn't smart enough to figure out exactly what is going on in her own home. She doesn't say any of that though.

"No, Dad's … the same. Can we talk in private please?" it's hard to be civil when she's so angry but her basic nature is to be polite.

"Sure, come with me," the woman ushers the teenager into an empty room.

"I want you to stay away from my dad. He's not a cop, he's not meant to be facing bullets, or nuclear bombs or the risk of freezing to death."

"I can promise you that he won't be doing any more police work. I've told him that he can't be involved in my cases anymore."

"And what about your night time visits? Are you going to promise to give those up as well?"

"Oh …" a faint tinge of red stains the older woman's cheeks.

"What? Did you think that I didn't know about them? Every time you come around the next morning he looks like he's aged ten years. You don't have to deal with that, you don't have to pick up the pieces afterwards."

It's a direct stab to the chest because Kate knows exactly the girl is going through; after all she did the same thing for her own dad after her mother died. Taking on the parental role and looking after someone who is so broken that they can't look after themselves.

"Alexis, it's complicated." How can she explain to this girl that she's tried, but she succumbs to her weakness each time? Her life is a mess; Montgomery's betrayal and death, her own shooting and the knowledge that the person behind that and her mother's murder is still out there. Kate feels like she's plummeting into the abyss and the only things that bring any light to her life at all are the few moments that she spends with Rick.

"No, it's not complicated," Alexis' tone is finally starting to match the fiery color of her hair. "He can't move on if you keep coming around. You're not good for him and if you cared about him at all then you'll stay away."

The girl walks out leaving Beckett shamefaced. She's a homicide detective who was just lectured to by a seventeen year old and the most embarrassing thing is that she knows that the teenager is right.

* * *

><p>It's been twelve days since he last saw Kate, two hundred and eighty-six hours and forty-three minutes. It's the longest that she's stayed away and yet he still waits for her every night. The writer knows that nothing has happened to her; he caved at about day eight and called Ryan. The Irishman has promised to let him know if anything happens to her, anything at all.<p>

Rick's taken to watching the video from his front door security camera as if he can will her to come to him if he just keeps his eyes peeled to the screen. Most nights he falls asleep still watching the empty hallway in front of his loft. There are exactly fifty-six brown ceramic tiles in front of his door, he's counted them so often that he can sure of that. That's his ritual as he waits for her, a little OCD but it gives him something to pass the time away.

"Dad she's not coming," his daughter says from the doorway to his office. "I don't think that she's ever coming back," she leaves out the last part of what she's thinking, _and you're better off if she doesn't._

"Maybe," is his only reply, Rick doesn't want to get into another argument with her about this. As a teenager Alexis has such a black and white view of the world, being around Kate puts him into some dangerous situations therefore the logical thing to do is to avoid Kate. The problem is that the world is all these shades of gray and it takes experience to recognize that, it's not something that he can explain to her.

Alexis offers him the mug of warm milk that she's holding, "I thought that this might help you get to sleep."

"Thank you pumpkin, but I might just wait a little bit longer," it's a role reversal; he used to do the same thing for her when she was little and couldn't sleep.

He looks so broken that she gives him a hug, wishing that he could just be happy with what he has, instead of grieving for what he doesn't have. Alexis bites her bottom lip, debating whether or not to tell him about her conversation with the detective. It's been ten days since she'd ventured into the police station and it looks like Beckett has taken her words to heart. The problem is that her dad looks even worse now than he did when he was still getting his nocturnal visits.

The teenager still feels like it was the right thing to do, warning off the older woman. At least now her dad is safe, even if he isn't exactly happy about it. Surely safe but miserable is better than being happy and then hurt. The only problem is that her dad isn't the same man any more, the thing that has always defined him is that spark, the joie de vie. It's missing now and she can only hope that with time it will come back again.

"Ok Dad, I'm off to sleep. Don't stay up too late," she admonishes him, its advice that she knows he'll ignore.

It is two-thirty am before he finally gives up, Kate isn't going to come around tonight and maybe she might not come around ever again. As a novelist he can come up with a hundred different excuses for why he hasn't seen her; there's been a murder every night and she's been called out, she's out of town, she's forgotten where he lives. They all sound pretty flimsy and he knows that if she wanted to then nothing would stop her from being here. Maybe she really means it this time.

Rick looks at the phone sitting on his desk, it exerts an almost gravitational pull that he can't resist. It's too late to phone her, she's probably screening out his calls anyway if she isn't already asleep. What could he say to Kate that would change her mind? The brunette is obstinate, closed-off, hardheaded, and doesn't listen to other people's advice, none of that changes the fact that he loves her.

The text that he sends in the end is short, it simply says _I miss us_. Defeat weighs down his shoulders as he finally heads for the dubious comfort of his bed, without someone to share it with it might as well be a bed of stones.

* * *

><p>In her lonely apartment Kate sits in the dark, there are no lights on because it's easier to hide from everything in the dark, including hiding from yourself. The soft ping of her phone alerts her to the incoming text, there's only one person who would be texting her at this time of the night. The dim, luminous light from the phone screen bathes her face in a pale blue color, it accentuates the dark circles that seem to be multiplying under her eyes.<p>

The last two weeks have been pure hell, if this is Dante's inferno then Kate's not sure which of the nine circles she is in and what she's done wrong to deserve this. She was a victim in her mother's death and surely it's not wrong to want to get justice for that.

The green light on the phone seems to mock the detective with it's pulsing, _incoming text, incoming text_ it screams. Her finger hovers briefly over the delete button, she's tempted to not even open it because she's sure that it's only going her to hurt to read the message.

_I miss us_.

Pain explodes behinds her eyes as tears gather and then trickle down her face unheeded. There's no satisfaction in finding out that she was right. What pains her the most is knowing that he is hurting too. The phone drops to the floor, her hands clench into fists and she sits on them, taking away the temptation to just grab her keys and break about a hundred traffic laws in order to get to him as quickly as possible.

The saying goes no pain, no gain. So this is her, Kate Beckett, sucking up the pain and hoping that the reward at the end makes it all worthwhile. And what was that reward again? Oh yeah that right, she gets to see Rick Castle, the man that she loves, move on with his life without her. That's not how it ends in the fairytales but it's the best that she can hope for. Maybe he won't be in her life anymore but at least the world will seem a bit brighter as long as he's out there somewhere.

_And with someone else_, a nasty, little voice in her head mocks her. She silences it brutally. If she was a better person then she'd hope that he would find someone else to love, it would mean that he wouldn't be hurting for as long. That's what you want, isn't it, for the people that you love; that they're not hurting? But Kate's not that much of a martyr, she'd rather picture him pining for her forever.

This is as much as she can do. She'll stay strong and avoid him for his own good, no matter how much the both of them are suffering. It's not perfect but it's all that she can manage.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

It was like someone had taken Richard Castle and beaten all the joy out of him. The empty husk that was left behind barely managed to go through the motions of living. He ate when Alexis or Martha nagged him into it. He lay tired in bed every night but real sleep eluded him, instead fitful dozes filled with troubled dreams dogged his night time hours.

In the last two and a half months the writer hasn't seen or heard from his muse except for one painful occasion. He'd sat in his car staking out her apartment, determined to make Kate talk to him. He was convinced that if he could just talk to her then he could get her to change her mind. In the end though he hadn't even managed to say one word to her.

_Having waited for over an hour Rick was unprepared for the sight of the detective walking out of her building on the arm of some tall blonde guy. It's early enough in the morning that there's a good chance that the guy had been staying overnight at Kate's place. The red haze that had come over the writer was a deadly cocktail of anger and pain, he'd barely even registered the fact that this guy dared to have his arm around Kate, was in fact leaning down to kiss her temple before Rick was out of the car and pulling the couple apart._

_He'd shoved the other guy, forcing him to fall back a few paces, even as Kate was yelling at him to stop it but the bloodlust swirling through his mind had made it hard to hear anything. Blondie had come up swinging, landing a hard left jab to his mid-riff. Pain and nausea mixed as a result of that direct hit but despite that Rick welcomed the fight. He was tired of waging a silent battle with Kate, at least here was an opponent that he could hit._

_His right arm is pulled back and then he swings his upper torso around letting his body weight add to the force as his arms snaps forward aiming right at the other man's head. And then suddenly Kate is between the two of them and his fist is now headed directly for her face instead._

_Horror blooms as Rick realizes that he's about to hit the cop, there's no way that he can pull out, there's too much torque and momentum behind the movement. So instead he falls further into the punch, adding even more spin so that at the last minute his fist swings harmlessly past her opposite ear. It's a close call and he's panting from the exertion as well as the fear of the near miss._

"_Rick you need to leave, please just go now," she tells him and in his shame at what almost happened he does just that._

That was the last time that he had seen Kate, he hasn't even tried to call her after that. All of her protests that it was too dangerous for him to be around her had just been lies and excuses. She obviously doesn't have a problem with letting other people get close, just him. It's obvious that she's moved on so now he has to do the same.

* * *

><p>If she was to die tomorrow then her last visual memory of Rick would be the hurt on his face as he walked away from her a month ago. Kate knows exactly what the writer thought about the situation that he was confronted with and she hasn't made any attempt to correct the wrong assumptions that he's made.<p>

Aaron is like family, she'd always called his parents Aunt Ellen and Uncle Jim although there weren't officially any blood ties that connected them. Still her relationship with Aaron was familial enough that she would never even consider going _there_ with him. He'd been in town for only three days and had stayed with her when Rick had confronted them that morning.

The idiot writer had then proceeded to go ballistic, starting a fight like some kind of testosterone driven caveman. Even now she got angry about that whole scene. She wasn't a prize to be fought over, she had a mind of her own and if Aaron had really been a new boyfriend then Rick had no right to be picking a fight with him.

Since then she hasn't heard from the novelist at all. He's stopped leaving voice messages on her phone that she never returns. No random texts that used to come singularly or at times like an avalanche with five or six coming across her phone in the space of a couple of minutes.

For her part, the cop has been very disciplined, there was only the one time that she allowed her weakness to overcome her good sense. She'd thought that she was getting better, getting used to not having him around. Then one day she'd walked past a book store and there was his smiling face, that familiar shit eating grin beaming from a cardboard cutout that was advertising an in-store book reading with the famous crime novelist. That was when the jolt had shot through her, like the phantom pain of a limb once amputated.

So she'd indulged her addiction that one time. She'd snuck in to the store, her hair covered by a ball cap and wearing a bulky pea coat that made her seem at least four sizes bigger than she actually was. She hadn't sat in the audience but had instead hidden behind one of the bookcase, well out of his line of sight. She couldn't see him but more importantly he couldn't see her.

It had been enough though to just hear his voice, that low rumble as he brought the words on the page to life, weaving the story of Nikki and Rook. At least in his fictional world their alter egos get that happy ending that eludes them in real life.

* * *

><p>Rick stares at the plain manila envelope with his name addressed on the front, it turned up in his mail today inside another package. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to get this to him without anyone else suspecting a thing.<p>

The plastic shrink-wrap covering the limited edition collector's model Millenium Falcon looked exactly the same as it did on the day it had come out of the factory. Inside the box however was something that George Lucas had never dreamed up, in fact the contents seemed even more outrageous than a futuristic galaxy where good and evil fought it out for the soul of one Luke Skywalker.

The postage stamps declare it was sent from Thailand, which means that this envelope has literally been right around the world and back again. He knows that this letter could have only had one point of origin, New York city, because the novelist has a thing for penmanship, and the looping script that covers the sheet belongs to someone he knows. Or rather it belonged to someone he used to know; literally a dead man writing.

_Dear Castle,_

_If you're reading this then I must have died. I can't say that I don't have regrets about that but I hope that the manner of my death will, at least in some small way, help redeem some of the mistakes that I have made in my past._

_This is the first of two packages that you'll be receiving, they contain all the information that I've managed to amass concerning the man who is behind Johanna Beckett's murder and so many other crimes. I've left nothing out, including my own part in allowing this man to wreck the devastation that he has._

_Unfortunately it's not enough though to ever convict him in a court of law. A lot of it is hearsay and circumstantial, a smart lawyer would have no problems getting it discounted. I'm giving it to you as a safety net, something to use to keep Beckett out of harm's way._

_I know that you must have a lot of questions and I'll try to explain my reasoning for the way that I've handled this. Firstly why has it taken so long for this to come to light? The simple reason is that situation was getting too hot. I thought it was better to not confront the dragon directly, hopefully by now he'll think that the danger has passed and there'll be less scrutiny on you and the others. That's why I sent both packages to a friend overseas first. His instructions are to mail it to you discreetly six months after my death._

_Secondly why am I giving this to a writer instead of any of the detectives under my command? They're all good cops, I have no doubts that they would do a fine investigation but they don't know how to bury information. Their focus on finding justice would blind them to the personal risks that they would be exposed to, especially Beckett. But I know that I can trust you to lock this away or burn it if you judge the situation to be too dangerous to proceed. Don't let any of them throw their lives away if you think that this will just end up being a suicide mission._

_I'm sorry that there isn't more that I can offer you but I trust that you will make the right decision about if and who to pass this information onto. It's a heavy burden that I've placed on you and I'm sorry for that too, I hope that you realize that I am doing this with only the best of intentions._

_Your friend,_

_Roy Montgomery_

This is truly a message from the other side, and the writer can't believe the courage it must have taken for Montgomery to write this as he faced his own imminent mortality. Despite his burning curiosity, a necessity in his trade, the novelist hasn't looked beyond this first page yet. Normally he would have just leapt in but caution is painful lesson that has been hammered into him by the events of the past few months; 'where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.'

In the end though there is only one choice that will honor the sacrifice of Roy Montgomery, even if this information goes no further he owes it to the Captain to read it all.

* * *

><p>Fantastical and mind-blowing is how he'd describe the whole story, if he tried to write this as one of his books people would think it too unrealistic to be believable. And yet Rick has to accept that it's true because he knows that Montgomery staked his life on this. How a state's attorney rose to become the Secretary of Defense, his political career financed by a kidnapping ring with crooked cops targeting mobsters. Although the man had retired from public life he was still said to be very influential in the corridors of power.<p>

No wonder this shadowy figure was powerful enough to attempt to kill a police officer at a funeral crawling with dozens of cops. He had the money and influence to reach out and smite anyone who dared stand in this way. He was also smart enough to do it through layers of protection, it would be almost impossible to finger him as the culprit. There would be so many intermediaries between the dragon and men like Lockwood and Coonan who actually did the dirty work for him.

This is big, way beyond what a New York cop could hope to bring down, even is she's helped by a team of worthy detectives and one plucky writer. Even with Rick's money, it would take more resources than they have to bring this man to justice. It would probably take federal resources in order to tackle this case, but apart from Kate and her team Rick has no idea who he can trust with all of this. The problem is that the dragon's reach could be limitless, he had dirty cops working for him; what other parts of the system has he managed to corrupt?

It's a heavy yoke that Montgomery has burdened him with, and the writer has no idea what he should do with all of this.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

Castle waits with rare patience for the brunette to process the pages of information that he's laid out in front of her. It's almost everything that Montgomery had given to him bar a couple of files that incriminate the captain. She makes no comments as her eyes scan across the sheets from left to right, methodically adding each new piece of information to the form a mental image of a criminal mastermind who has skimmed under the radar up until now.

"So what do you think?" he asks her once the final page is turned over face down.

"I think that there isn't enough proof in here to bring it before a court. We would need a lot more concrete evidence before we could even hope to get a warrant for his arrest."

It's depressing but it's also what he expected, he just needed a second opinion from someone who's actually paid to do this for a living.

"Is it at least enough to get an official investigation going?" he asks hopefully.

"I don't know, most of this isn't really my field," the investigator hesitates to commit to a definite answer. "I deal with murderers and this is more organized crime." She shakes her head at the sheer audacity of it. "I know someone who would be able to tell us though. Do you mind if I show him this?"

"As long as you trust this person implicitly then I guess so. This guy has a long reach and he has had dirty cops working for him so please be careful with who you pass this information onto," the writer warns her.

"I trust him with my life, he was my partner for four years so I think that we'll be safe," she assures him. "I am surprised that you're here talking to me about this instead of Detective Beckett though."

"It's complicated Agent Shaw. Beckett's personally involved in this case, the lawyer that was murdered, that was her mother. She's too close and it's too dangerous to let her get in the firing line again; six months ago this guy had her shot at Montgomery's funeral, she barely survived that."

The agent nods her head knowingly; she spotted the connection between the cop and the writer from the first time that she worked with them. This is more than just the normal concern for a work partner.

"I agree that it's generally a bad idea for law enforcement officers to be personally involved in cases that they're working on. It can start to become more about revenge than about justice, although I don't think that's the reason why you've come to me with this instead of going to your partner," even now the profiler can't help but try to pick apart the psychological puppet strings that have lead him along this path.

Castle refuses to rise to the bait though; he doesn't need to explain himself to this woman. Instead he remains silent, not realizing that his whole body language is already giving away all his secrets.

"You do know that if Beckett finds out about this then she's not going to thank you for trying to keep her out of it," Shaw warns him. "In fact I would guess that she'd be pretty angry at you. Are you sure that this is what you want?"

"Yes," he'd rather have Kate pissed off with him but safe, as opposed to the alternative.

"If this does become an official investigation I won't be the agent in charge of it, it's a different department really. I'll try to keep her out of this but if her involvement becomes necessary to the case then it will be beyond my control," Shaw doesn't try to lie or sugar coat it for the writer's benefit and he respects her for that.

"As long as you try your hardest, then that's the most that anyone can ask for," he replies philosophically.

* * *

><p>He hasn't heard back from the FBI agent in over two week, it's not like he expected to be kept appraised of everything but he was hoping to at least find out if an official investigation would be opened. The waiting is killing him and he finally calls up her office hoping to talk to Agent Shaw. Instead he gets through to another member of her team, Agent Zhang.<p>

"Hi I need to talk to Jordan Shaw please," the writer doesn't supply his name, it's best if he leaves no trail behind him.

"I'm sorry but Agent Shaw is unavailable, if this is in regards to an FBI matter then I might be able to help you."

Rick's not sure if Shaw has confided in her team at all, it's safest if he assumes not though.

"No, it's personal thing. I'm a friend of hers," he lies.

"I'm sorry then because Agent Shaw was killed in convenience store robbery six days ago."

Rick hangs up without waiting to hear any more. There's a remote possibility that Shaw was just in the wrong place at the wrong time but the more likely explanation is that this is a demonstration of the dragon's reach, not even federal agents are safe. Fear and guilt are churning up his thoughts, guilt because he was the one who brought the case to the FBI agent and fear because the writer could be next.

He considers taking his family and making a run for it, out of state or maybe even out of the country for a while. That would be the safest thing to do but how long would he have to stay away for? A month? A year? Besides, if a professional assassin is after him then things like country borders aren't likely to stop them. Rick isn't deluded enough to think that he is Jason Bourne, he's not trained to assume a new identity at the drop of a hat. Any professional would be able to track him down pretty quickly.

Slowly he begins to calm though, surely if Agent Shaw was killed because she'd done some digging into the dragon's affairs and the same criminals were after him then he'd be dead already. The agent was killed six days ago and he's been completely unaware of the danger, going about his normal life without taking any extra precautions. There have probably been dozens of opportunities in that time for someone to have killed him or at least to have grabbed him to find out what he knows. The most likely thing is that the dragon is unaware of the connection between the writer and the FBI agent.

Rick fires up his laptop and opens the search engine to see what further details he can find out about the agent's murder. There are only two brief newspaper articles; the first gives only the barest information about the two victims of what was assumed to be a case of a robbery gone wrong. They mention Shaw's name but not her occupation or any other information about her. The second article quotes the lead detective as saying that all avenues would be pursued in finding the culprits, the lead detective being one K Beckett.

It's like fate has decided to truly stick it to him, he can't seem to get any luck at all. Shaw's death has shown that it's too dangerous to proceed but at the same time he can't just sweep this back under the carpet. He's opened Pandora's Box and now all the evils of world have been released. If it wasn't Kate who was investigating Shaw's death he might have considered just burning Montgomery's files but now that wasn't an option.

Knowing Kate, she's not going to settle for the simple story of a robbery gone wrong. If he doesn't let her know exactly what Shaw was working on then the cop could be in all sorts of danger without even knowing it. This is the last thing that he wanted to do but now he has no choice, he has to let Kate know exactly who her mother's killer is.

* * *

><p>She would have slammed the door in his face except for the fact that he manages to wedge his foot in the way.<p>

"Get out Castle, I told you that we're over," her tone is adamant although the truth is that she's trying to convince herself of that fact as much as she is trying to convince him.

"I know. I'm not here about that," there's calm acceptance on his part. If they weren't over before then they definitely will be after she finds out exactly what he's been hiding from her. That's not important at the moment though, he's here to make sure that she's safe. Rick forces his way past her, ignoring the angry glare that she is sending his way.

"By all means, make yourself at home," she tells him sarcastically as he walks over to her dining table and sits down, placing a manila envelop in front of him.

"You're investigating Jordan Shaw's murder; it's a deliberate setup, made to look like a robbery gone wrong."

He's caught her attention enough that she lets him continue uninterrupted; she's come to the same conclusion after going over the evidence for the last few days. Unless Rick has been talking to Ryan or Esposito there should be no way that he knows about this.

"I think that Shaw was killed because of something that she was working on and the guy behind it wanted to hide that fact by staging a botched robbery."

"I've already checked out that angle Castle. Shaw didn't have any active cases at this time, she was giving a series of lectures at Quantico. I've even been through her past cases and nothing popped," Kate is shaking her head even as she allows herself to enjoy the moment, it just feels so natural and right to be building theory with him.

"Shaw wasn't working on an official case but she was looking into this," he hands her the envelop, inside is everything that he got from Montgomery.

It doesn't take Kate long to look over the pages, she's already familiar with some of the crimes so she skims over those sections quickly. So many emotions batter her at the same time. There is satisfaction in finding out the man who is behind all of it because now she knows exactly who she is going after. It wars with the hurt that chips at her soul because Montgomery didn't trust her enough in the end to confide in her. Above it all though is anger at the man sitting in front of her as she begins to understand the depths of his betrayal.

"How long have you had this Castle?"

"About a month now, it was mailed to me from a friend of Montgomery's."

"A month, you've had this for a month and you didn't think to even show it to me?" there's an icy fury in her voice, it burns colder and longer than any fiery temper. "Was this your way of trying to get back at me because I wouldn't let you play at being a cop any more?"

"Kate I was trying to protect you. Can't you see how dangerous this man is? I thought that if I gave this information to Shaw then the FBI could handle the investigation without you being in danger."

Rick makes a grab for her hand, he just wants to touch her as if that would convince her that he was only doing what was best for everyone. Her fingers are freezing cold in his grip and surprisingly she doesn't whip her hand away immediately.

"So why are you showing this to me now?"

"I found out that you were in charge of investigating Shaw's death and I wanted to make sure that you knew what kind of danger you were heading into. I knew that you wouldn't buy the robbery angle and so I had to warn you about the dragon's involvement before he got to you."

"And if I hadn't been the detective on this case? What would you have done then Castle? Would you have ever shown me this information or just left me in the dark?"

His silence is answer enough.

"Get out Castle! I don't want to ever see you again, or so help me, I'll shoot you myself."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Previously - Castle has to confess to Beckett that he's been withholding information about her mother's murder from her. She says she never wants to see him again and threatens to shoot him.**

Chapter 5

"Well go ahead and do it then because you're going to be seeing a lot of me," Rick calls her bluff.

For a second she seriously considers it. If she just shot the writer then her life would become simpler in so many ways. She could go back to being the Kate Beckett that existed four years ago. That woman was focused on one thing, she had clarity. Back then the detective was content with her life, even if she wasn't exactly happy.

Now it feels like the cop is being pulled in so many different directions, mainly because of the man who keeps calling himself her partner. She's so angry with him that she could resort to violence. But even now there's a small, traitorous part of her that's eating up the sight of him because it's been far too long.

"Fine, I'm not going to shoot you but I can chuck you out of my apartment."

With a practiced move she's got his arm twisted halfway up his back as she frog marches him to the door. When he tries to dig his heels in she twists his arm even more. The added rotation threatens to pop his shoulder out of joint and he gives a howl of pain. It's enough to encourage him to the door under his own steam.

"Please Kate, you have to listen," Rick begs.

"I don't have to listen to any more of your lies Castle. Get out of my damn apartment."

A solid push in the back propels him out the door and he stumbles a few steps forward. The solid wood and steel barrier is slammed firmly shut before he's even spun back around again. However if she thinks that this is the end of it then she's dreaming.

It starts off with a pounding on her door and then when that doesn't work it's joined by some very off-key singing.

"One hundred green bottles sitting on the wall, one hundred green bottles ….."

He could at least sing in tune, she thinks as she plugs her ears with her fingers. As if he can tell what she's doing his voice gets even louder. He makes it to ninety-five green bottles before his singing is joined by the irate shouts of her neighbors. They obviously aren't enjoying his little serenade.

Beckett manages to hold out until eighty-three green bottles. It's clear that he's not about to give up and she's the one who has to live with these people after all. He's leaning slightly on her door so the unheralded opening causes him to stumble a bit. Fine, he doesn't care if he looks stupid because at least he's back inside again.

"Ok Castle you have five minutes to say your piece and then you're out of here. Explain to me why you'd betray me like that."

The detective is glaring at him; her arms folded defensively across her chest. It's not the most promising look but he's got to take his chance. Words are his livelihood and he prays that they don't let him down now.

"I didn't betray you Kate. I went to Shaw because I hoped that the FBI would take on the case. Does it really matter who catches this guy as long as someone does?"

She gives a little huff; there's no way that she can respond to that without making it seem like she's out for revenge instead of justice. His argument has her on the back foot and the brunette doesn't like it.

"Did you think that I wasn't up to it? Is that how little faith you have in me?" she launches a counterattack.

"No, it wasn't anything like that," Rick shakes his head vehemently. "You're the best cop that I've ever known. I know that you could do it but this guy is seriously connected. He was the Secretary of Defense for goodness sake! I was scared about what might happen to you if you started digging into this guy's background; look at what happened to Shaw. I don't want to see you shot again. The next time you might not be lucky enough to survive."

"Castle it's not your job to keep me safe. I had a right to know. You don't get to make those kinds of decisions for other people."

"Like how you decided to kick me out of your life to keep me safe? Do you mean that kind of decision?" he mocks her.

The cop squirms under his withering sarcasm; it's an uncomfortable position when you're hoisted on the pedestal of your own hypocrisy. No, she shakes her head; the two things aren't comparable. She was justified in her unilateral decision to force him out.

"You're not a cop; you don't have to do this. Plus you have a family. Think of what it would do to Alexis or Martha if you were to get hurt."

"So I can't put myself at risk but it's ok for you to get hurt or killed?"

She shrugs with a fatalism that scares him. He reads the truth that she won't voice aloud.

"My god Kate, you think that you're going to die because of this."

"I can't let that risk make me back down. I'm a cop; there's always going to be a chance of getting hurt on the job. I just want to make sure that you don't end up being collateral damage."

He grabs her by the shoulders and gives her a good shake. Her calm acceptance is only adding to his fear.

"I'm not going to stand by and let you get hurt; not if I can help it. We're going to nail this guy and no-one is going to get hurt, do you hear me? Then we're going to go on to solve hundreds of other cases and you'll make captain. Finally we'll die in the middle of making love when we're both old and grey and I can barely get it up." He's rambling by now but he keeps talking as if he can hold back all the danger by the sheer torrent of words.

Kate's not angry anymore; resigned is a more accurate way of describing her current mood. She can understand the reasons for his actions even if she's still not exactly happy about it. However this acceptance doesn't include letting him dive back into the middle of the fray. There's only one way to get him to leave; she has to hurt him badly enough that he won't want anything to do with her.

"Castle what we had wasn't real; it was the stress of the shooting. I lost my confidence and I just needed some comfort. You were there and I was selfish enough to take what you were offering. It was wrong of me to do that when I knew how you felt. I'm sorry but I don't feel the same way about you." She looks him straight in the eye as she lies to him.

"No, I don't believe that Kate. I know that you felt it too."

Her words drive him to the edge of despair; the way that she belittles what they shared. Rick grabs her, holding her head still as his lips swoop down to meet hers. He's going to show her that it did mean something.

Despite her best efforts she can feel herself responding to the familiar taste of him. Without conscious volition her lips part, her tongue slips out to duel with his. She doesn't fight against the arms that mould her curves against the length of his body. It feels so good and she's only human after all.

After what feels like an eternity he finally pulls back. Triumph crowns his face at the response that he's managed to coax from her.

"Tell me that you didn't feel anything now. That that meant nothing," the writer challenges her.

"It was just a physical thing. The sex was good; I'm not saying that it wasn't. But a physical response doesn't add up to be this grand romance that you've dreamt up in your mind. I've moved on. I'm with some one else now."

Her tone is soft, a concession to his fragile psyche, but the words themselves punch into him with the force of a sledgehammer. The last sentence sounds the death knell to his hopes, the final blow to his fading dreams. The image of the blond man that he saw her with springs to mind. The writer wishes that he had managed to hit that SOB after all; at least he'd have the satisfaction of that moment to console himself with now.

His face crumples from the blows that she is raining down on him. Kate can see the moment that he starts to believe her. His body seems to collapse in on itself and he seems fragile despite his imposing six foot one frame. She's never seen someone's heart break before, not like this. There can be no doubting of what he's experiencing because her heart lies shattered next to his.

"Damn you Kate, how could you do that to us? I love you."

His words tear at her, demanding that she recant her story. The detective stands firm though. A little sacrifice now is better than making the ultimate sacrifice later. All she can do is wait for the inevitable goodbye.

"I'm sorry Castle, I truly am. I never meant to hurt you."

"Fine, it's my own fault if I read more into the situation than was actually there. But you're still stuck with me, I'm not going anywhere. You can't take down the dragon by yourself so I'm going to be there for you." Even through his pain the novelist remains resolute in his chosen path.

He completely stumps her with that declaration. After everything that she's said the stupid man is still not walking away. Why couldn't he just live up to his past fickle playboy reputation? Instead he seems intent on drawing out the pain for both of them. Agent Shaw once compared his loyalty to that of a puppy dog and it's so true. Kate is sure that she's done nothing to warrant this level of faithfulness; it's simply a reflection of the quality of the man.

"I've got Esposito and Ryan for backup. What do you think that you can do as a writer that two detectives can't achieve? This isn't one of your books Castle. You can't write a happy ending for me." She's shouting at him by this stage; her frustration with his bullheadedness can't be adequately expressed in a normal tone of voice.

"You still need me, I'm your partner," his deliberately calm tone just incites her even further.

"No Castle, I don't. I'll have a restraining order taken out against you if you don't leave me alone."

"Ok, in that case I'll just investigate this on my own," he plays his trump card.

"Damn it Castle no! It's too dangerous for you to go stumbling into it by yourself." God only knows what kind of trouble the writer could get himself into if left to his own devices.

"Well in that case I guess that you'll just have to keep me around to make sure that I don't do anything stupid."

It's checkmate, game over and Kate knows it. If the writer goes after the dragon then it will defeat the purpose of why she's cut him out of her life in the first place. It leaves her with no other options but she isn't gracious in her defeat.

"Fine, we'll do it your way," she practically spits the words out. "You're back on the team for this case only but once it's over then you're out of here. Don't think that this changes anything."

**A/N: Hopefully Castle is growing a pair in this chapter. Sometimes in season three I've felt that the writers have made him seem almost a bit of wimp because they have him bending over backwards to be respectful of Beckett's boundaries. He needs to call her on her crap and not let her get away with it. If he would just man up sometimes then those two would have gotten together by now. Thanks for still reading.  
><strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The war council gathers in front of Beckett's makeshift murder board. The real work is going to be done under the radar. It's too dangerous to do this at the precinct because they don't know who they can trust. Only the people in this room will be privy to what goes down.

"Arghhh, we're getting nowhere," the female detective clutches her head in frustration. "I've been staring at this information for hours and we're still no closer to finding some solid evidence to nail this bastard." It's coming up to midnight and they've made no progress.

With the extra information that Montgomery has provided there is almost too much data to process. It is a riot of facts but no interconnecting links. They're also hampered by the fact that they can't go through the official channels to access information; so there are no phone records or looking through financials to help them out.

"Yeah, knowing the identity of our perp isn't helping out at all. It's like trying to work a murder case backwards." Ryan massages the back of his neck, hoping for inspiration to strike.

"I think that we're trying to do too much," the writer ventures to give his opinion. Up until now he's kept silent because he knows that he's here only on sufferance.

"What do you mean? To me it feels like we haven't managed to do anything at all. We're going around in circles at the moment," Beckett says with exasperation.

"Exactly. We're not getting anywhere because our focus is too broad." Rick walks up to the window and starts taking down some of the notes from the board.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing Castle?" the brunette protests as he undoes her work.

The novelist ignores her and continues to take down more notes. "We're trying to solve all these murders at the same time; your mother's, Montgomery's and Shaw's death. That makes the timeline too long and the killers are all different. The only common denominator is the man ultimately behind them all. I think that what we need to do is concentrate on just one murder initially, if we can pin that on him then the others might click into place as well."

She hates to admit it but Castle is probably right. It still feels wrong to ignore all the information that they have but it's true that there is just too much to process if they don't narrow down their line of investigation.

"So which case should we concentrate on then?" she asks the writer.

"I think that we should concentrate on Jordan Shaw's murder. You're already officially investigating it so no-one will question it when you go over the video surveillance and other evidence. Plus Coonan and Lockwood are already dead while the gunman in this case is still out there. If we can find this guy and pin Shaw's murder on him then he might be willing to turn over evidence against the dragon in exchange for a plea bargain."

What Castle is saying makes sense but she still feels a little guilty for abandoning Montgomery and her mother's case for the moment. Even if it is for the greater good, it still feels like a betrayal of their memories. That pinch of pain makes the corners of her eyes tighten slightly.

It was such a little thing that you could be forgiven for not even noticing it but somehow Castle manages to catch it. He puts his hand on her shoulder to offer comfort.

"Beckett we're not ditching your mom's case. I promise that he'll pay for that as well but we just need to get our hook into him first."

For a second she forgets their current situation, forgets that she's trying to cut him out of her life for his own good. Her body instinctively leans into the warmth of his touch, her cheek almost rubbing against his hand before she pulls back in horrified embarrassment.

She turns around abruptly and practically sprints out of the room. A revealing pink bloom colors her cheeks and the detective is fervently praying that none of the others picked up on what almost happened back there. "I'm going to start another pot of coffee," she announces to explain her sudden retreat.

Ryan and Esposito don't even raise an eyebrow at Beckett's odd behavior. Ever since Montgomery's death and Castle's departure from the twelfth their boss has been very erratic. Her short temper and abrupt exits have become the norm, especially when it has anything to do with the dragon, so they don't even question it any more.

Only the writer is suspicious that her exit has nothing to do with the case. Maybe it is ego on his part but he'd swear that the cool eyed cop hasn't moved on quite as far as she claims. Her body still remembers their connection even if she's denying that her heart was ever involved. He files that little fact away to think about later; maybe she's not as immune to him as she keeps protesting.

When the brunette comes back nursing her cup of coffee there is no sign of that weakness remaining. Her face is inscrutable as she focuses on the murder board again. There's only Jordan Shaw's picture in the middle of window now; one simple time line that covers the six days from when Castle first spoke to the FBI agent to when she was killed.

"Ok Esposito and Ryan I want you to go over the store security tape again, see if you can pick up anything that would be unusual for a simple robbery gone wrong. Talk to the witnesses again; see if they remember anything new. Also check the ballistics against the federal database. I know that nothing popped on the local database but if this guy is professional killer then he could have turned up somewhere else in the country." Now that she's got her emotions under control again the detective is back on familiar ground.

"What are we going to do?" Castle asks; he's already assumed his natural position as her partner.

"We're going to talk to Shaw's husband, and her FBI team. As far as they're aware this is just a routine check but what we need to find out is who she might have been talking to about this case. Someone that she trusted could have betrayed her; we need to find that guy because he's our link to the dragon." It's supposition at the moment but her cop instinct tells her that she's right.

"Shaw did say that she had a friend in this area who she was going to talk to. She didn't mention his name however," Castle knows that there's something else that the agent said but that memory dances elusively at the edges of his recall.

He closes his eyes and pictures himself back in the agent's office as he walks through his memory, hoping that it will jog that fact back into place. "She'd finished reading the file and then she's shaking her head as if she couldn't quite believe it." He can almost see the wry respect on Shaw's face at the audacity of the dragon. "That's it!" he snaps his finger as he remembers the vital clue. "The person she was going to talk to used to be her partner."

"Good, that gives us something to work with. I'll get Shaw's employment sheet with the bureau and find out who she's been partnered with. We'll get started on that tomorrow, for now I think that we should call it a night. I don't think that I need to remind you to be careful. If we find anything that might tie Agent Shaw's death to the dragon then it shouldn't be discussed at the station. At work we'll keep to the line that it's a robbery gone wrong, only the four of us will know any better." The detective looks around at the members of her team; there are nods of confirmation as they all realize the gravity of the situation.

"Ok, I'll see you all work in the morning." Beckett can feel the case starting to come together; they have a plan now and she has something else to focus on other than the man who is playing havoc with her concentration.

"Umm, I hate to point out one small flaw but Captain Gates might still be a hurdle. The woman doesn't want me at the precinct," Castle points out.

For a second Beckett is tempted to use Gates as an excuse to keep Castle out of it. Knowing the writer though he won't accept that and will try to do some investigating on his own.

"Don't worry about that Castle, I'll talk to the Captain first, I think I can sort it out. Call me at about ten just to make sure that it's ok to come in though." Beckett is confident that Gates won't be a major issue, after all most of the Captain's concerns were due to the brunette's refusal to have Castle come back in the first place.

* * *

><p>"You want me to do what?" Captain Gates looks at her detective with understandable confusion.<p>

"I would like you to give Richard Castle permission to shadow me again."

"Hold on detective, four months ago you were standing in the same spot demanding that I kick the writer out and ignore the Mayor's request. And now you want me to reverse that decision? Tell me exactly what has changed."

"I thought that after Captain Montgomery's death and my shooting that Castle wouldn't be able to cope, that he'd be more of a liability than an asset. I've simply changed my mind."

"Well you may have changed your mind but I haven't detective. The man is a novelist, he's not a cop. It's highly irregular to have him following you around like that. It's one thing to have him do a ride along but from your reports it sounds like he was acting more like your partner than a shadow. Having a civilian follow you into highly dangerous situations is not normal procedure."

Beckett grinds her teeth at the reminder of exactly what Castle is risking by coming back; unfortunately the only other alternative is even more dangerous to his well being.

"I know that it was very unorthodox Sir but it works. He's already signed a waiver so the city can't be held liable if he's hurt. Plus the reality is my team works better when he's around. Our case clearance rate has dropped in the time that he's been gone."

It's true that they weren't solving as many cases but Beckett's not sure if it's because she was missing the author's astute insights or if it was because she simply missed him. The last few months she's been like a machine, going about her work but lacking the passion for it; the lights were on but no-one's at home.

"I still don't like it. Castle is too much of an unknown factor, he seems to go rogue at the drop of a hat. I can't have that in my department."

Despite her words Beckett can tell that the Captain is wavering. Getting back in the Mayor's good books would go down well with the powers that be at 1 Police Plaza. Gates is a career cop; she has her eye on the Chief's shield one day.

"I'll keep a tighter rein on him this time," the detective lies directly to her Captain's face. Everything to do with Shaw's case is going to be unorthodox but Beckett doesn't know this woman, doesn't know if she can trust her with the true details. "Just let him back on a probationary term and if you're still not happy in a month then I'll tell him to go myself."

The cop reckons that a month is probably all that they need, either they will have solved this thing by then or the dragon will have dealt to them.

"Ok detective, he can come back. Don't make me regret this or I _will_ make sure that you regret it."

"Thank you sir."

The brunette has only made it back to her desk when her phone rings.

"How did it go?" the writer asks nervously.

"You're in," she tells him, "I practically had to offer my firstborn as a guarantee that you'd behave but the Captain is buying it for now."

"Good, I'm just downstairs. I'll be up in a minute," Castle hangs up.

Beckett makes a point of not looking up at the sound of the elevator doors opening. Her eyes don't stray from her computer screen even as various voices call out a greeting, welcoming the writer back after his sabbatical.

"So what are we up to?" Castle asks as he settles himself into the chair that he's made his own over the last few years.

She finds it disturbing how right it feels to have him back here again, back by her side. "Let's get to work then," she says as she finally allows herself to look up at him.

He has that cocky grin on his face which is so annoying and sexy at the same time. Her coffee sits as a peace offering between the two of them. "Thank you. I'm glad to be back and I've missed you too," he says as if she'd given him the warmest welcome.

For a minute the detective debates whether or not to put him in his place. This is only a temporary arrangement; she's still determined to send him back to the safety of his prior life once this case is over. The problem is that she can't argue with him about it here, too many curious ears are listening. So for now she lets him have his way and picks up her cup for a sip; after all it seems a shame to waste good coffee.

**A/N: only a little over two weeks to go until the new season, I can't wait. In the meantime I'm killing time by writing these stories. Hopefully they help to tide you over as well until we get a new episode. **


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Having a trail of fire ants crawl over her body would be preferable to the current situation that the detective finds herself in. _What the hell was he doing?_ Beckett chances a quick look in the writer's direction. To the rest of the bull pen Richard Castle would appear to be reading as he sits in the chair that he's made his own. But the brunette can see through the smoke screen of his seemingly innocent actions; simply put, the man is shredding the last vestiges of her sanity.

His little innocent touches are driving her mad; the brush of their fingers as he hands her a cup of coffee; the nudge of his shoulder against hers in the crowded elevator. There's nothing sexual in it at all and yet her mind instantly goes there because it's Castle. Even in the midst of their current case she can't help thinking about it. The worst part is that he seems blithely unaware of his effect on her.

She has an _awareness_ of him now that didn't exist before; with her eyes closed she can still tell that he's there. She doesn't remember being this distracted by his presence before. Surely in the past she could go through a report without her eyes being tugged in his direction every five minutes.

Of course the last time that they both sat in their respective chairs was _before_. Before she was shot, before he told her he loved her, before she finally succumbed and found out exactly what it felt like to be _cherished_ by Richard Castle. Cherished is the perfect word to describe how she felt in his arms because the detective has never been with anyone else who has made her feel so precious before.

_Stop it,_ Beckett tells herself as she realizes that the devious man has managed to sabotage her concentration yet again. The detective would love to tell him to knock it off or yell at him to stop it. Shout, scream or swear; any of those things would at least make her feel a bit better. But she can't tell him off without acknowledging the sexual tension that still exists between the two of them and she'd rather shoot herself than admit that to him. So instead she bits her tongue and all the while she's being wound tighter than a spring. At some point she's going to just snap but what else can she do?

_Just relax Kate; pretend he's one of the other guys. _Unfortunately that mantra that she keeps repeating to herself isn't making a jot of difference. The same platonic touches from Ryan or Esposito wouldn't elicit any reaction from her at all, but the problem is that she can't think of the writer in the same way as she does her fellow cops.

The brunette hasn't spent hours in bed tearing up the sheets and satisfying her basic urges with the muscular Latino cop or the slim Irishman; she's never wanted to. Unfortunately the same can't be said for Castle. With him she knows exactly how good it can be; how it feels to have him sunk so deep inside her that it's hard to tell where she ends and he begins. Those memories taunt her, reminding her of exactly what she's missing.

Beckett finds herself watching him when he's not aware. It's self inflicted torture to stare at the one thing that she's denying herself. The slight stubble that he has by the end of day makes her fingers itch with the desire to run those digits over the curve of his jaw. The way that his lips quirk up in that trademark cocky grin of his makes her want to kiss it off his face. The worst was this morning when he bent over to grab something and she just wanted to grab hold of that delectable ass. The urge to pull him into a private room to have her way with him was almost undeniable.

"Castle where the hell are we on the witness reports from Shaw's case? Have you managed to do anything at all this morning?" She falls back on her classic response of deflecting to mask her own swirling emotions.

The writer responds with a raised eyebrow and a mild, "Ryan and Esposito are working on that." He doesn't allow himself to get upset at the unprovoked attack. Something is definitely up with his ex-lover but he knows that a direct confrontation won't get him anywhere.

"Why don't you go and find out how much progress they've made on it then? I need to get some work done here." Her tone of voice makes it more of an order than a suggestion and he doesn't protest.

* * *

><p>"So has anything new happened while I've been away?" Castle is aiming for nonchalance but he's missing the mark judging by the grin that the boys exchange.<p>

"I got a new phone," Ryan teases the writer knowing that the man isn't really interested in that.

"Oh yeah, I kicked your high score in Angry Birds," Esposito adds as he finishes doctoring his cup of coffee with sugar. The break room at the station is otherwise empty apart from the trio and Castle seizes the opportunity to do a little digging. Despite the seriousness of the case, the two detectives still take the opportunity to lighten the mood when they can.

Esposito and Ryan watch the novelist with amusement, wondering how long it will take him to break. The writer caves quickly; there's no point in trying for subtlety when the other men know exactly what's on his mind.

"Fine, just put me out of my misery. Is anything happening with Beckett? Is she seeing anyone new?"

The partners exchange a look of understanding; although it would normally be funny to mess around with the writer for a bit, today is not the time for it. The man looks like a lovelorn puppy and it would be cruel to lie to him at the moment; that would just be a step too far.

"No, there's been no-one since she broke up with Josh," the Irishman says, although he does add a word of caution. "But you know Beckett, she's pretty tight lipped about her personal life; we didn't find out about motorcycle boy for months after they started dating."

Castle's hopes rise only to sink again at that last comment. It's true that Kate could be in a relationship and her coworkers would be the last to know, after all the other two men still don't know about the affair between the writer and their green-eyed leader.

"True but she's been spending even more time at work than normal over the last few months. I think that the only time she leaves this place is when she goes home to sleep. With that kind of timetable when would she have time to see anyone?" Esposito puts in his opinion.

The writer decides to look on it as positive news. Even if Kate is seeing that blond guy it's not serious enough that she's introduced him to her friends. Castle has learnt his lesson from the last time with Josh; he's not going to step back this time. Even if she turns him down at least this time she's going to have to do it overtly; he's not going to let her sidestep the issue by not making his intentions clear.

He's going to go all out to snare the elusive affections of the green eyed detective. If that means laying his heart bare for possible annihilation then so be it; as his overly dramatic mother would put it 'better to go out with a bang than a whimper.'

* * *

><p>Beckett remembers the surprise she got the first time she meet Mark Strickland. Shaw's husband looks at least years younger than his spouse and he'd been in the middle of the yoga class that he was instructing. Somehow the detective had always imagined that Shaw would be married to someone who was as high-powered as the special agent herself. Instead Strickland seems a very gentle soul, not exactly a match for the pragmatic and sometimes abrasive agent.<p>

Informing someone that their loved ones had been killed was one of the worst parts of her job. The man had literally crumpled in front of her at the news. The guy who opens the door of the Strickland/Shaw family home today looks nothing like the serene man that the detective first saw a week ago. Tragedy has carved its mark into his face, the reality of carrying on without his other half was taking a physical toll on Strickland.

"Thank you for agreeing to talk to me Mr. Strickland. I just have some further follow up questions to ask you," Beckett says.

The widower looks curiously at the writer by her side; Castle hadn't been present at the previous occasion when the detective had delivered the shattering news.

"This is Richard Castle, he's … consulting on this case," she correctly reads the question in the other man's eyes.

"Please come in, we can sit in the lounge." Although numb with grief he still observes all the niceties. "Have you found something new?" Strickland asks once they're all seated.

"No new evidence sorry. We're still working on the presumption that this was a crime of opportunity but I wanted to tie up some loose ends." Beckett lies. "Your wife managed to put away some very dangerous people. Was there any chance that one of them was seeking revenge? Had she received any threats recently or was she behaving oddly?"

"No, nothing like that. Her job has always involved some risk and Jordan was careful but there hadn't been anything out of the ordinary."

"What about that convenience store? Was it one that she routinely went to? Could someone have anticipated that she would be there at about that time?" the detective asks.

"No, it's not even on her way home from work," Strickland shakes his head. "That evening she called to say that she was running late and that she wouldn't be home until eight. I asked her to pick up some bread on the way; that's what she was doing in that store."

"You said that the store wasn't on her route home from work, so do you know where she might have been driving from?" Castle speaks up.

"No she didn't say. She just said that she was doing some work."

"Dad?" a young voice says as a head peers out from around the entrance. The rest of the body is still hidden behind the door frame as if the girl is too shy to join the group of adults. The kid was young, Beckett guessed maybe about eight, and there was a striking resemblance to Jordan Shaw.

"Angela, why don't you go back upstairs and play for a bit? Daddy is busy talking to …" Strickland hesitates. "Daddy is talking to some of Mommy's friends."

But instead of turning around the child ventures further into the room, "I know where Mom was. She told me before I handed the phone over to you."

"Hi Angela, my name is Kate and I knew your Mom. Can you tell me where she was? That would be really helpful if you could."

The girl looks at her father first for guidance and at his nod her soft voice speaks up again. "Mom said that if I was good she'd bring me home some of that special Italian candy that I love; the stuff that Uncle Vaughn always gets when he's overseas."

"That's Vaughn Somers, he and Jordan used to be partners a few years ago," Strickland volunteers the added information. "I guess they must have organized to catch up or something although Jordan didn't mention anything to me about it."

"Thank you Angela," the detective is careful not to talk down to the child.

The kid is obviously smart enough to know that Beckett's here about her mother's death. Solemn gray eyes stare into the green ones as if the child is making her own assessment of the investigator. "Make sure that you catch the man who did this to my Mom," she finally says.

"I promise to do my best," it's a vow from one motherless daughter to another.

* * *

><p>"Jordan's family isn't quite what I pictured," Castle makes the observation as they step into the elevator of the apartment building.<p>

"I know what you mean. Her husband was a surprise. I don't know if he's strong enough to survive this. I wonder if she thought about how he would cope with this kind of situation." Subconsciously Beckett is projecting, that family could have been Castle and her if she hadn't put an end to it. How would the writer have coped if they'd gotten married and then she'd been killed? Would he be strong enough to go on?

"Do you think that Shaw was selfish to put him in this situation?" her partner asks.

"Maybe she was. He seems like quite a sensitive guy, this could break him. And on top of that he's got a daughter who is depending on him. I don't know if Shaw was being fair to them or had thought through all the options."

"The heart wants what the heart wants," Castle says philosophically. "We can't control who we fall in love with."

"I don't believe that, I think that we always have a choice," she's very firm on this point.

He snorts at her naivety "If that was the case then I would never have chosen to fall in love with you. Prickly, closed off and stubborn. No, if I could have chosen then I wouldn't have picked that but here we are none-the-less."

"Castle we're not talking about that."

"Aren't we my dear detective? I love you and even if I didn't say it, it doesn't make it any less true." He grabs her shoulder, forcing her to look at him as he confronts the elephant in the room. "Why does it make you so upset to hear it?"

"Stop it Castle!"

"No Kate, I'm not going to stop. I love you and I think that you feel the same way about me but you're too scared to risk letting yourself be happy. If you don't feel anything then it wouldn't upset you so much to hear me say it." His calm as he says this makes her agitation even worse.

Without warning his lips swoop down to capture hers. It's passion on his part but there's anger and frustration on her side. _Why the hell does she still respond to him? It's not fair the way that her body betrays her_. The clash of emotions is jarring even as she allows herself to fall into him. Their noses bump and teeth scrap against each others until they find their rhythm. Ungainly and animalistic would describe them well. It's not romantic, it's not a Hallmark moment but it is real. The brunette can't deny the desperate need as she allows his arms to lock them together for several blistering seconds.

Surprisingly it's the writer who pulls away first. The heat of his passion blazes out through those familiar blue eyes; she can feel it all the way through to her core. "No, if it was a choice then I would never have chosen to fall in love with you but I did." He stalks away out the open doors leaving her silent and stunned as she watches his departing back.

**A/N: So that was my version of Castle going all caveman. Hopefully forceful but not offensive. Beckett's in for a rough time or at least until she can pull her head out of her ass.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

An uncomfortable silence envelops the car as the two partners pointedly ignore each other. It's almost impossible in the enclosed space but they both give it a damn good try. The words that were said can't be taken back; they fester like a pool of pus under the skin, fouling the whole environment.

_What does it say about me that the person who knows me best thinks that I'm not worthy of love? _Kate ponders that question as the Crown Vic rolls through the traffic lights. Of course she doesn't want the writer to be in love with her, it would make things so much easier for everyone if he wasn't. The rational part of her mind knows it, but it still doesn't stop the sting of rejection from tormenting her. It's a prick to her ego to know that Richard Castle wouldn't have chosen her.

But the worst part is that she agrees with him. Standing on the inside looking out she is all too aware of her many flaws. Prickly, too proud, hard to get to know, emotionally closed-off, and stubbornly following her mother's case almost to the point of having a death wish. Those are just the things that she can come up with off the top of her head. Of course there are good reasons for why she's turned out this way; her mother's murder, her father's alcoholism and now Montgomery's betrayal and death. Each one has left a gouge on the landscape of her soul. _It probably resembles the barren wastelands of a moonscape_ she thinks rather fancifully.

None of these things were her fault, but regardless of blame, at the end of the day Kate Beckett is a broken woman. It's no surprise that Castle wouldn't have chosen her, she can't blame him. He _deserves_ someone who won't lead him further into the dark, he _needs_ someone who is whole and that's not her.

_I would never have chosen to fall in love with you_. His own words mock him as Castle sits deliberately not looking at her. Maybe he was trying to inflict an equal measure of pain on her to balance what he was feeling. The words are true on the surface but the way he told her was cruel because they don't encompass the whole truth.

If he was a rational man and sat down to write up a list of pros and cons then there would be a lot of things in the negative column including her determination to push him away. That list would be enough to make any sane man reconsider the prospect of making an assault on the fortress of Kate Beckett's heart.

What he's left unsaid though is the other side of the coin; all the reasons for why he loves her despite the obstacles. Her courage, the compassion for victims, and the generous heart she hides behind a sometimes stern façade. He's chosen love before and has two divorces to show for it. Five years ago the playboy that he was would have looked on Detective Kate Beckett as an insurmountable Everest. That playboy would have been more than happy to seduce her but falling in love wouldn't have been part of the plan. He's not that man anymore though and he's certainly crazy enough to attempt the seemingly impossible to claim her love.

"Kate … what I said before …" the writer tries to fumble his way through an apology, far from his usual eloquence.

"Castle, don't. It's fine," she cuts him off before he can get any further.

"But I …" he needs to explain himself.

"No, I mean it. You're hurting so you had your little rant, I understand. I've let you have your sulk, now it's time for you to move on; I have. Stop being a baby about it," she mocks him. The confidence in her voice and the way she teases him for his infantile retaliation belies her true inner turmoil.

"Oh …ok then." The writer is taken aback by the way she's just shrugged this off; Kate doesn't seem at all upset by what he said. Maybe it was just his overwhelming ego speaking when he thought that she'd be hurt by it.

"Good," the tone of her voice suggests that the door on that conversation has been closed as far as she is concerned. "Ryan and Esposito are meeting us at my place soon and we'll update the case."

Silence claims the car again as the duo slide back into their own thoughts; two people sitting physically next to each other and yet a thousand miles apart.

* * *

><p>Ryan and Esposito exchange a significant glance as they take in the noticeable tension between their boss and her shadow. The writer is obviously twitchy about something because his gaze is moving around constantly, looking everywhere except at Beckett. Normally his eyes are drawn towards the brunette like some kind of compass towards its lodestar; which makes his present behaviour even more odd.<p>

Beckett is being her usual inscrutable self, the only thing that gives her away is the fact that she isn't telling the writer off. Normally she would be the first one to rein Castle in when he's behaving oddly but today the detective says nothing.

It looks like Mom and Dad are fighting again but neither of the cops is brave enough to bring up the elephant in the room. Mom has been on a PMS binge that has lasted six months and the boys would like their heads to remain on their shoulders thank you very much. So they exchange worried glances for now and they'll talk about it amongst themselves later.

"What have you guys managed to dig up?" Beckett looks at the pair after adding a new name to her window-pane murder board.

"We got a match on the federal database for the ballistics on that bullet. The same gun was used in a drugs-related shooting in LA two years ago," Ryan reports.

"From one coast to the other, that's a long way for a gun to travel," Castle remarks.

"Yeah, and there's another kicker to the story," Esposito adds. "The same gun was recovered in a big undercover operation eighteen months ago. It was part of a large consignment of weapons that was meant to have been destroyed six months later."

"Who was involved in that operation?" Beckett asks.

"It was a big multi-agency case. Every man and his dog had their finger in the pie – ATF, FBI and the LAPD. There could have been more than a dozen people who could have gotten to that gun; there's no way to know for sure," Esposito delivers the bad news.

"It would be if we had to go through every person who was involved but I think that we might have possible suspect." Beckett points at the new name on the board under 'Persons of interest.' "Vaughn Somers, he was Shaw's ex-partner at the Bureau and we think that he was the person that she had been to see right before she was killed. I want you guys to dig up what you can on this guy. See if he had any connection to that case in LA. If he's dirty then we've got our link to the dragon."

"I think that getting some basic info on this guy will be fine but trying to dig up anything deeper on a federal agent is going to get some alarm bells ringing. It might tip them off," Ryan says hesitantly. "If we try to access phone or financials records then someone is bound to notice."

"Damn it you're right." It's like trying to investigate a case with one arm tied behind her back. Beckett is well aware of the dangers and the need to keep this all under the radar of the dragon but it's making her job twice as hard. "Just do what you can without raising any suspicions," she tells the younger man.

"I might know someone who could help us out with that," Castle says hesitantly.

Three pairs of eyes swing his way but it's the green ones that hold his focus.

"Go on," she prompts him.

"In one of my Derrick Storm novels I had a character who was a computer hacker, Preston Tindal. Tindal could get into almost any database, no matter how secure it's meant to be."

"Yeah, _Electric Storm_. I remember that," she mumbles as she recalls the vague outline of the story.

Castle looks surprised for a moment at her comment. Kate can remember a minor character in a book that he wrote more than ten years ago? She seems unaware that the comment unintentionally reveals exactly how big a fan of his work she is.

"Anyway the character is based on a real person, David X. I think that he could get the information that we wanted for the right price."

Beckett raises an eyebrow at the pseudonym, "David X? Really? Is he related to Malcolm or is this some kid who's watched too many spy movies?"

"Ok, so the name is a bit geeky but this guy is the real deal. As a test I got him to pull my records from the DMV and the NYPD. Those systems are separate and both are meant to be secure but he ghosted in like the door was wide open. Within ten minutes he could tell me exactly how much I'd paid in speeding fines over the last five years and when I was arrested for that incident with the police horse."

The detective has to admit that it does sound like this guy has the right credentials but this now leads to a new problem. Up until now what they've been doing has been irregular but if they take this next step then it will cross over the line into illegal. Not filing reports about all the information that they had on Agent Shaw's death could be viewed as a bit of a grey area but using a computer hacker to access confidential information was definitely over the line.

She bites her bottom lip as she mulls over the decision; if they get caught doing this then it would all of their badges on the line. Beckett makes a point of looking at both Esposito and Ryan as this could have serious implications for all of them. Is it fair to ask them to take this risk? She knows that on her own she'd be willing to do it but it's not just her job on the line here.

Ryan gives her a little smile while Esposito just shrugs; they're both cops so they know what is at risk here. The signals aren't overly demonstrative but it's enough to let her know that the guys are willing to follow her lead on this; whatever path she takes they'll have her back.

Beckett is still not sure though. "Castle how do you know that we can trust this guy? We don't know who could be involved in this conspiracy. He could be working for the dragon already or he could turn around and sell us out to these guys the minute our backs are turned. The fact that he's willing to sell us illegally hacked information isn't exactly a glowing endorsement."

The writer gives a bark of laughter at the suggestion which earns him a glower from Beckett. This could have serious implications for all of them and the stupid man is howling like a lunatic.

"Care to share the story with the rest of the class?" she asks him.

"It's hard to explain but you'll understand once you meet the guy," Castle says with a slight shrug. "He is a total conspiracy freak; he's made a pilgrimage to Roswell and he's convinced that JFK was assassinated by CIA agents. David views government and big corporation as the devil incarnate, there's no way he'd be in league with the dragon. Trust me on this one," he adds when she still looks unconvinced.

Beckett stares at him for a long before she gives a slow nod; she doesn't know David X but she's willing to trust her partner on this. "Ok set it up then."

* * *

><p>Alexis is sitting on a stool by the breakfast bar when he walks in the door that evening. "Hey Dad, where have you been?"<p>

The deliberate blandness in her tone lets Castle know that his daughter has a pretty good idea about exactly what he's been getting up to. Alexis has always been smart but it doesn't take a genius to figure out that her father has been following his muse again. Although he's still not the same happy man that he was before, there is a renewed vitality about him.

"Hey isn't that meant to be my line to you?" he teases, hoping to steer the conversation into easier waters.

The teenager just gives him a pointed look, ignoring his attempt at levity.

"Ok Alexis," he sighs, "I've been investigating a case with the police."

"Dad you promised you wouldn't," worry and hurt shine in her eyes at the thought of him being in danger again. "Did _she _ask you to come back?"

There's no need to define who _she _is, they both know that Alexis can only be talking about one woman.

"No," Castle shakes his head sadly. "Don't be angry at Beckett. If anything, she's been trying to keep me away. I had to blackmail her into letting me help out with this one."

"So why are you doing this then Dad? Why can't you just stay safe?"

"Oh pumpkin, it's not that simple. I've made some mistakes and people have gotten hurt because of it, so now I'm trying to make it right. I can't stay safe and out of the way when there are things that I know that could prevent someone else from getting hurt. This is the right thing to do. You understand that don't you?"

The redhead would like to deny it but unfortunately she does understand. The last few years have wrought a change in her father. He's matured and become a better man, and whilst she's rejoiced in that it, it also means that he's not the type of man to walk away from his mistakes now. Although she's proud of him, it doesn't stop the slow trickle of tears that escape her at the thought of dangers he's facing.

"Hey don't cry," he tells her as he gathers his daughter into his arms.

Alexis' thin arms hug him back with all the strength they possess even as her tears moisten the front of his shirt. "Dad, promise me that you'll be careful."

"I'll try," Castle says even as he prays that this is one promise that he'll be able to keep.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"So you've made no new progress at all?" Although it's phrased as a question Captain Gates isn't looking for an answer. "I put you on this case because you're meant to be the best and yet you've uncovered nothing. I'm very disappointed Detective."

Her face is an expressionless mask as Beckett listens to the Captain upbraid her for the supposed lack of progress on Agent Shaw's murder. It scrapes across her nerves to be dressed down like she was some rookie on her first day but she has to admit that on paper it looks like they're at a dead end.

"Detective Beckett, do you know how many calls I've received from the Feds? The tally stands at thirty-one and counting, I think that they must have me on speed dial. It's getting beyond embarrassing to explain to them that we are no closer to finding Agent Shaw's killer. It makes us look like we're the damn Keystone cops. I don't enjoy looking like a fool."

Gates' fierce glare would make a lesser person buckle but Beckett keeps her eyes fixed on a point just to the left of the Captain's shoulder. The brunette is almost biting her tongue to prevent herself from answering back. It would feel good to defend herself and her team; to let the Captain know exactly how far they've really gotten. But it's too dangerous; she has no idea who they can trust so for now Beckett stays mute.

"They don't have the jurisdiction to take over this case but the Chief is willing to let them have one of their agents join the investigating team. I've argued against it and we've got a reprieve until Monday. Do you think that you can handle this Beckett? Or am I putting my faith in the wrong person?"

"No sir. I can handle this … my team can handle this."

"Well you've got five days to prove it. I want you and your team to do whatever it takes to close this case. I'll authorize the overtime and any extra personnel that you need; just make sure that you catch the guy. Do I make myself clear Detective?"

"Yes sir." Beckett's words and her tone are beyond reproach but both women know that there is no love lost between the two of them.

"Don't make me regret this then because I won't hesitate to put someone else in charge of this case if I think that you're not up to it," are the Captain's dismissing words.

Beckett makes a point of softly closing the door to Gates' office as she leaves instead of slamming it like she'd prefer to do. There's no way that she's going to let the other woman know how pissed off she is. The team is gathered around her desk and they all look up as she walks across the bull pen but instead of stopping there she just stalks right past them. For now she needs to be alone more than she needs the support of her colleagues.

The three men all exchange a look amongst themselves. There might not have been any shouting but they can all tell that Beckett's interview with the Captain did not go well. Three very disparate faces but they all mirror the same anxiety. It's obvious that someone needs to go and talk with Beckett but it would take a fool or a brave man to attempt that feat before she's ready.

"I'll go talk to her," Castle volunteers even as he wonders whether it makes him an idiot or a hero.

* * *

><p>Anger, frustration, and a real fear that she might fail make for a nauseating concoction of emotion. The detective doesn't bother to turn the light on as she ducks into the first empty room. The dark offers an illusion of sanctuary, a retreat from the burdens of the world that are pressing down on her.<p>

It's times like this that she misses Montgomery the most. His quiet support was something that she took for granted. With him at her back she was fearless; he made her the cop that she is. Unfortunately Captain Gates comes from a completely different mode. The woman has questioned Beckett's methods at every turn; turning a hard job into one that is nigh impossible. Added to this stress is the task of trying to keep Gates in the dark as to the real nature of the investigation.

As if that wasn't enough, she's now got a deadline to work to, only five days before this case is taken out of her hands. Five days to solve a case that she's been working on since her first day on the force. If this is taken from her then who will find justice for her mother, for Roy and for Agent Shaw?

Maybe it is arrogance on her part to think that she is the only one who could solve this case. All Beckett knows is that she is the one who has the most to lose if they don't catch this guy. If someone else is in charge will they be able to look past the surface explanations and grasp the truth? Or will it end up being another cover up? The inconvenient facts being ignored in favor of closing the case with some dupe offered as the sacrificial lamb.

History so could so easily repeat itself; another family being told that their mother and wife was the victim of a robbery gone wrong. Beckett is no Detective Raglan; she made a promise to Shaw's daughter which she means to keep, she's going to do her very best to nail the bastard who's responsible for all these broken lives.

With all of that weight bearing down on the detective who could blame her for being tired? Her head hangs low, shoulders slumped as she lets it all just wash over her for a minute. Beckett gives herself over to the luxury of wallowing in self pity.

"Beckett … are you ok?" the writer asks hesitantly as he pokes his head into the observation room.

She's standing with her back to him, seemingly immersed in a staring contest with her own reflection from the glass.

"Kate?" he tries again when she doesn't answer him the first time.

"Castle, leave it alone ok? I just need a minute." She meant it to come out strong and menacing, instead she just sounds tired. That sums up how she's feeling now that the immediate anger has past. The burn of that rage kept her spine stiff throughout the humiliating lecture but in the aftermath she just feels drained. Her whole body language screams a message of despair.

The sight of a broken Kate Beckett would be enough to shatter his heart if it was still whole. He's only seen her like this a handful of times before. Each one of those occasions had something to do with her mother's case. It pulls him forward despite her request for privacy. Hesitantly his hands reach out for her. There is a pause before he touches her, uncertain of the welcome that he would find.

It should feel like another burden to be borne, the weight of his hands descending on her shoulders. Here is another life that she's responsible for, someone else that she has to keep safe. Instead it feels like home as he pulls her into his arms so that her back is flush with his chest.

It's greedy of her to take the comfort that he offers. It's selfish for her to lean back against him, for a moment he can be the wall that props her up. It's wrong to do this because at the end of the day she knows that she can't give him what he wants; letting him do this only gives him a false hope. When this case is over then they will be as well. Her mind shouts its protests even as her treacherous body gives in to the temptation of his.

"I'm here Kate," Castle murmurs into her hair. He doesn't offer empty platitudes or promise to make everything better. Montgomery's death has taught the writer that some things just can't be fixed and not ever case will be a win. All he can offer her is his presence, here and now, and hope that it will be enough. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" he asks her.

Hysterical laughter bubbles up her throat. It holds no hint of real humor and she's helpless to stop it. _Tell him what's wrong?_ That list would fill entire books, maybe even an entire encyclopedia. _Do they even make encyclopedias in this age of online information?_ The stray thought that goes through her head is a symptom of exactly how tired she is; she can't even concentrate on one thing at the moment.

The sight of her coming apart frightens the novelist. Over the years the writer has seen the many faces of Kate Beckett before; watching her has been his job. He's seen her angry before. He's seen her face down death. He's seen her uncertain and scared of failing, but he's never seen her unraveling right in front of him. It's taken the perfect storm to bring her right to the brink.

"Kate, talk to me," he gives her a little shake, hoping to jolt her out this odd mood that has taken hold of her.

This only elicits more maniacal laughter from her as if this was all a grand joke. He changes tack and turns her around so that he can see her face. His hand cups her chin forcing her gaze upwards to meet his own.

Beckett is silent as she studies his face, it is a mixture of the achingly familiar and the painfully new. The faint scar on the forehead is an old friend, a legacy from a moment of teenage bravado gone wrong. The laugh lines that bracket his mouth tell of a man who is happy by nature. The bright blue orbs meet hers directly like the writer is trying to see right into her soul.

What is new is the way his eyes seem sunken; there is a new wariness in them, a lesson hard-learnt from these last few months. She thinks that she can see a few more grey hairs shadowing his temples. Her fingers reach up with a mind of their own to brush through those short bristles. This is what she's done to him. Those slim digits continue on their journey; softly traversing over the prominence of his cheek bones down over the fine sandpaper texture of his jaw and finally arriving at the fullness of mouth.

"Kate … what are you doing?" Castle stands perfectly still as if any slight move will spook her. The fact that she is touching him intimately of her own volition is like a dream; if it is then he never wants to wake up.

"Shhh, don't talk," she whispers before her tongue ghosts along the seam of his lips. The cop just needs to take a moment from the worries that press down on her. She wants a reminder that not everything in the world is bad, even though it might feel like it at present. Beckett reaches out for the comfort that only this man can give her.

Passion isn't the overwhelming emotion that colors the air as his arms pull her even closer. He can sense that those darker drives aren't what she needs right now. Instead the kiss is as gentle as the stroke of a feather, an almost chaste meeting of lips. His hand rubs against her back in small comforting circles.

The detective basks in the strength that he offers until finally she has replenished her own supplies and can face the task once more. He can sense the change in her immediately; the emotional withdrawal that precedes the physical one. She doesn't want to hurt him but it still stings when she takes a step back re-establishing the boundaries between them.

"I'm sorry Castle." Her apology encompasses more than just this episode and they both know it.

"Tell me what happened," he coaxes her.

"Five days … we've got five days." Her voice comes out as a low whisper.

"What do you mean? Five days for what?"

"Gates is getting pressured by the Feds so she's set us a deadline. We've got five days to close this case before it gets taken out of our hands. Castle, who knows what will happen then? The more people that become involved in this case the bigger risk that one of them will be working for the other side. One whiff of danger and the dragon will have covered his tracks so well that we'll never get him. He'll get away with … everything."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

There is no residual evidence of the woman who had a mini-breakdown in his arms just over an hour ago. The detective looked like she could take on hardened criminals for breakfast and still not break into a sweat. If Castle hadn't seen it for himself then he would have laughed at the suggestion that this case was starting to unravel her. It proved how good an actress Beckett was. The wall that she had erected around her emotions didn't betray a hint of uncertainty.

"Where is your damn hacker?" The cop scans the coffee shop again as her foot taps out an impatient Morse code against the linoleum floor.

"I don't know, the email just said to be here at 10 am," Castle says with a shrug of his shoulders. He can understand her frustration, they're on a tight schedule now and this is wasted time that they could be using to follow up other clues.

"What does this guy even look like?"

"I don't know," the writer admits sheepishly.

"What? I thought that he was a source for one of your previous books."

"Yeah he was but our only previous _meeting _was a virtual one. He skyped me and the picture was deliberately hazy. He also had one of those programs which alter your voice so I couldn't even tell you what he sounded like, well other than sounding like Darth Vader of course. I told you that this guy takes paranoia to another level. I am kind of surprised that he suggested an actual meeting this time around."

"Do you at least have a contact number for him?"

Castle gives another helpless shrug. "No. The only way to contact this guy is to leave him a coded message in one of the online chat rooms that he visits. He calls me back but the number keeps changing. I think he must be using a burner phone"

There are a few choice four-letter words that the detective could use but she bites her tongue; it's not Castle's fault that this guy seems to be a no-show. They've been sitting here for fifteen minutes now and no one has even looked like approaching them.

The only person who's shown any interest in them is the stunning redhead who has been checking out Castle; sending some none too subtle smiles his way. The detective can't work out if the other woman is a fan of Castle's books or just a fan of the total package. To his credit the writer hasn't responded to the flirting; deliberately keep his gaze fixed on Kate instead.

"Ok we've wasted enough time waiting for this guy. Let's go." Beckett grabs her coat off the back of the chair. Their impending departure is the signal for fangirl to screw up her courage and make her way over to their table. The cop hides behind a disinterested look, masking the grimace that lurks inside. Kate may have pushed him away but it doesn't mean that she should have to watch some other woman make sheep's-eyes at him.

"You're Rick Castle aren't you?" The woman doesn't wait for an answer before she continues. "I am a huge fan of your books; I've read them all like five times. You are like my favourite writer. Could I please get your autograph?"

Beckett has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. The redhead is practically gushing in her praise and the cop is sure that she heard a giggle or two in there; giggling should be banned in any person over the age of twelve.

"Sure. Where would you like me to sign?" Castle sends Kate an apologetic glance. He knows that she hates it when his fans interfere with her police work but he doesn't like to be rude, after all the readers are what it's all about.

It's a disaster in the making; one flustered fangirl trying to hand over a pen and a napkin, combined with one writer holding a cup of coffee to go. Beckett is quick enough to get out of the way but Castle is not so fortunate and ends up wearing the coffee all down his shirt and trousers. The writer gives an unmanly squeal as the splash of hot fluid finds him; there is no other way to describe the high pitched sound that he makes at the sudden pain.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. Here let me …" Fangirl has grabbed a handful of napkins to dab at his chest. She leans forward even as he looks down at the mess that covers him; the ensuing clash of heads is all too predictable.

Beckett has to look away briefly to control the laugh that threatens. It's a comedy of errors as both Castle and fangirl rock back on their heels before another round of apologies commences.

"I am such a klutz. Sorry about that. I mean sorry again. Here let me …"

Fangirl attempts to mop up the coffee covering him for the second time and this time Castle just stands still; he's not willing to risk another injury.

"Hey, it's ok. Accidents happen," he reassures her. The writer smiles, hoping to put her at ease. _See, no harm done_ is the underlying message.

The low rumble of his words combined with that cocky grin induces another round of stuttering from the poor woman.

Kate almost feels sorry for the other woman; she remembers what it was like queuing for hours to get her book signed by her favourite author. She was a blithering mess as well when he turned that same grin on her, although she hopes that she did a better job of concealing that fact.

The little bubble of empathy soon bursts though as the cop observes the direction of the other woman's hands. Having patted down the stain on his shirt, those slim digits have started to venture south following the trail of liquid onto his pants.

_She wouldn't dare …would she?_

Beckett looks over at her partner, waiting for him to speak up or stop the little hussy from _groping_ (yes the word is groping, there is no other way to describe it) him in public. But the writer just stands there like some stupid clod of a man. Maybe he's too surprised to react or maybe he's enjoying it. Either way Beckett isn't going to play the audience while fangirl feels him up.

Kate grabs fangirl's wrist and pulls it away.

"I think that he can manage that part by himself," the cop says dryly.

"But I have more napkins," the redhead protests innocently, holding up a big pile of dry napkins with her other hand.

_Yeah right. As if the spilt coffee is the only thing you want to help him out with._

The detective scoffs silently at the other woman's obvious ploy. "Thanks for that," Beckett plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the dry napkins from fangirl and then slaps them into the writer's hand.

"Castle, let's go," Beckett says as she pivots and walks away. She doesn't bother to look back to see what he's doing, confident that Castle is going to follow because he always does.

"Sorry, gotta go," Castle apologises to fangirl even as he does a half run to catch up with his partner who is already out the door.

* * *

><p>"What a waste of time, so much for your hacker friend," Beckett says as she belts herself into the driver's seat of her Crown Vic and starts the car. Even to her own ears the complaint sounds like the whine of a petulant teenager. How many times has she said to him that police work is ninety-five percent monotony? It's about following up on all the leads even if most of them don't pan out and yet here she is moaning about how one of his leads hasn't come up with anything.<p>

"Sorry, I'm just …cranky," she mumbles her apology as she stares at the street straight ahead. Without even glancing over she can predict the hurt look the will be covering his face. It's not Rick's fault but unfortunately he just happens to be here so he's copped the brunt of her frustrations.

"It's ok. We're all under a lot of stress with this one," he replies.

His level headed response make her feel even more like an ass than she already does.

"And I'd have to disagree, it wasn't a complete waste. We did manage to get some coffee. Just imagine how much worse it could have been if you didn't have caffeine in you," he teases her. "At least you got to drink yours while I ended up wearing mine. Although I must admit the smell has grown on me. Do you think I could market it as an aftershave? _Rick Castle; for when you want to smell like a man_." He puts on an overly dramatic voice for the last bit.

She gives a snort of derision but the accompanying grin, which she can't suppress, takes the sting out of her words. "Yeah right Castle. It was really manly when you squealed like a girl."

"Hey that was unfair," the writer puffs his chest out like some kind of caveman, reasserting his claim to the Y chromosome. "It's a sensitive area. Any man would be a little bit alarmed if someone spilt hot liquid over that spot. A few inches to the left and it could have been disastrous."

Her eyes dart over to his groin. It's an instinctive response to his comment, a response that Kate quickly corrects as soon as she's aware that she's doing it. But it's not quick enough,

_Argh. Damn it, he's just caught me checking out his package._

A hot flush blossoms over her cheeks, made worse by the knowing grin that he's sending her way.

"Don't worry detective, it was a close thing but disaster was averted," a thread of laughter winds its way through his words. It delights him that she's not as disinterested as she pretends to be. That coupled with the marvellous display of jealousy in the coffee shop has just brightened his day. Even in this serious situation the child in him can still find pockets of sunshine, or maybe the horny teenager at least. "Thanks to your timely intervention and that glorious display of jealously my virtue is still intact."

"Just clean yourself up. You look like you've wet yourself." It's a pretty lame comeback, but it's the best that she can do. Kate does her best to ignore the smile he sends her way as Castle dabs at the stains with the napkins that he's still got in his hand. Instead she concentrates on the traffic waiting for a break in the flow so that she can pull out into the stream of fast moving vehicles.

"Umm Beckett? I think that woman gave me something."

Yeah right, as if she's going to fall for that. There is no way that she is going to walk into that obvious setup.

"Beckett look at this."

She's still looking into the traffic, giving him only half her attention, "Enough with the teenage humour. I'm trying to drive," she chides him.

"Beckett! Look!"

The urgent tone of his voice pulls her gaze back to him; it's serious enough that she knows he's not trying for another juvenile joke. The writer is holding up a small USB flash drive nestled in amongst the napkins.

"I think that David X delivered after all."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Stop hovering over my shoulder," Beckett scolds him as Castle tries to read the information on the screen of his laptop. Somehow the detective has managed to commandeer his desk and chair, and the writer has been relegated to second place in his own office.

"No fair," he protests, "it's my computer that you're using after all. It's my apartment so I deserve at least some hovering rights."

"Castle, I'm making printouts for all of us so there's no need for you to read over my shoulder like that. Why don't you go and get changed out of those stained clothes while it's printing? The boys will be here in thirty minutes and we can all go over it then."

"Fine," Castle is sighing and pouting as he wanders off to the bedroom.

The detective rolls her eyes at the overly dramatic exit, it's clear that Martha isn't the only actor in the family. Her concentration is soon drawn back to the screen though as data reveals an interesting pattern of extravagant living, far too much for someone pulling in an FBI agent's salary.

* * *

><p>Castle shrugs out of the coffee stained shirt and tosses it into the wicker laundry basket. There's a fresh blue button down waiting on the bed but he doesn't reach for it. He's feeling too grimy to just put on clean clothes and there's still plenty of time for a quick shower.<p>

Soon the warm spray of water from the shower head is beating down on his head, washing away the sticky feeling of dried coffee. He sings along to_ Linkin Park's Numb_. It was the last song playing on the radio on their drive back to the loft and he can't get it out of his head. Of course he can only remember about three quarters of the words but that doesn't stop him from belting out his shower version of _American Idol. _ Castle's singing voice is fairly decent, nowhere near professional quality but you don't grow up with a Broadway Diva for a mother and not know how to carry a tune.

* * *

><p>The orange light on the printer blinks at her as it beeps a warning tone. <em>Load paper tray<em> is the warning message on the little screen. Beckett scans his office looking for another ream of printer paper but there doesn't appear to be any. Surely Castle must have some paper stored away somewhere? After all, he is a writer. But the search through the shelves in his office is fruitless.

"Castle, where do you keep your A4 paper?" she yells at the closed bedroom door. "The printer's run out." The only answer that she gets is silence. The detective wanders over to knock on the door, "Castle?" There's still no reply so she tentatively tries the door handle, "Hey I need some more …" Whatever she was about to say is wiped from her mind by the image of her ex-lover exiting from the bathroom with only a towel covering his hips.

It's hardly indecent; he's more covered up than some men at the beach. Plus Beckett has seen this and a lot more of his body before, _a lot more_. She's telling herself all of this as she tries to beat back the blush that is staining her cheeks. _Be professional,_ she reprimands herself silently. _Ignore the fact that he's half naked._

It's easier said than done, especially as there's a tempting droplet of water snaking its way down over his clavicle and onto the swell of his chest. Unconsciously she licks her lip, telegraphing what she'd like to do to that fortunate little drop.

He looks over at her from under the cover of the other towel that he's using to dry his hair. "You need …?" he prompts her as the silence stretches out. "Beckett?"

"Harrummph," she clears her throat, pretending that's the reason for her delay in replying. "I need some more paper for the printer. Where do you keep it?"

"There's some in the bottom right drawer of my desk."

"Oh … ok, thanks." Now all she had to do was peel her eyes off him, turn around and close the door. Her brain is screaming at her to do it but her body has decided to go on strike, it remembers what it's like to be with this man and it's stubbornly refusing to go anywhere. Her feet are rooted to the floor and her gaze is greedily eating him up.

Castle can read the conflict brewing inside the detective, after all this time he's become very good at deciphering her little tells. Watching her has been his job for the last three years. "Was there something else that you wanted?" he asks with a grin on his lips.

"No, nothing else," this is her cue to beat a hasty retreat but her body is still stubbornly refusing to cooperate.

"I only ask because you're still hovering. If it's a show that you want then I don't mind," his hand comes down to rest on where the towel is folded in on itself at his waist, that casual half hitch is the only thing that's preserving his modesty at the moment. "I won't tell your boyfriend if you don't," Castle promises.

_Boyfriend? What the hell was he going on about? Oh._ It takes Beckett a moment to catch up. Rick still thinks that the man he saw exiting her apartment a few months ago, the man he almost got into a fight with, is her boyfriend. She's never corrected that mistaken impression.

"Tell Aaron what? There's nothing to tell him," Beckett says.

A jealous haze clouds the writer's brain at the casual way Kate, _his Kate_, mentions another man's name. Confusing, obstinate woman, she keeps trying to push him away but at the same time she does things like this which pull him back in. The way her eyes are devouring him is almost a physical sensation.

"Nothing to tell him? So it's ok to look as long as you don't touch?" he taunts her. "So tell me Kate, do you like what you see?"

She affects an air of indifference, "You can stop trying to push my buttons Castle; I've seen it all before."

"That's true," he tilts his head in acknowledgement of the truth of her statement. "You have seen it _all _before. I guess you won't mind if I get dressed then." That's all the warning she gets before he lets the towel slide to the ground.

Her eyes immediately go south before she catches herself. Beckett pulls them back up to his face but it's too late.

"You … you tricked me, I didn't mean to look," she stutters. "You just caught me by surprise."

Neither of them believes the lie. The sly grin on his face just keeps getting bigger in proportion to the blush that's heating up her face. He's the one who is standing there naked and yet she's the one who is embarrassed.

"Well I'm not tricking you now. Fair warning Kate, you have about ten seconds to leave this room before we both end up in that bed. It's your choice and you'd better make a decision quickly," he tells her.

"Ten …"

"You're bluffing Castle."

"Nine …" his hand reaches down to cup himself.

"You're only embarrassing yourself here," she huffs.

"Seven …"

She fixes her eyes firmly above his shoulders but she can tell that he's stroking himself. The way that the lines at the side of his eyes tighten is a dead give away that the man is getting excited; she's seen that look on his face before.

"Stop it Castle. You're not some horny sixteen year old boy, you need to act your age," the detective warns him.

"Four …"

Castle stalks towards her, stalk is the perfect ward to describe the deliberate way he walks towards her. In this situation she knows that she is the prey. If she had any sense she would turn tail and run but sanity seems to have deserted her. Instead Beckett stands her ground, her chin tilted up in a challenging manner.

"One."

He cups that stubborn chin in one hand as he searches her eyes. "Time's up." That's the only warning that she gets before his mouth swoops down to claim her lips.

His tongue teases along the seam and the fight that she has is more with herself than with him as she tries to deny him entry. He doesn't force his way in, instead he coaxes her with a soft bite on her lower lip.

Homicide detective Kate Beckett is a strong woman; she can ignore the heat of his mouth on hers. The grip of his arms pressing her against his bare chest can be put aside. But even strong women have their breaking points and the grind of his hips against her abdomen tips her over the edge. She can feel his growing erection prodding into her belly, the friction is too high though and not where she needs it.

"You drive me crazy," she moans as her arms snake up around his torso to pull him closer, whether it's a compliment or a curse neither of them can tell. Soon there are no more words as her lips part to take his plundering tongue. He's devouring her and her whole body to straining to dive even further into the maelstrom. Her thighs part slightly and he takes the silent invitation, sliding one of his legs between hers.

It feels _sooo_ good as Kate rubs herself up and down against his thigh. Even with the fabric of her trousers between them, the pressure is building up inside her as she keeps grinding her pelvis in small circles against him.

Her traitorous legs, which only moments before refused to move, are now readily following his lead as he backs her up to the edge of the bed.

The stretchy material of her v-neck pullover is strained as he whips it over her head. Thank god she's not wearing a dress shirt today because he doesn't have the patience to deal with any buttons now. His busy fingers have her bra undone and off before she's even aware. Strong hands cup her butt to boost her up so that her breasts are at his face level and then he's latching onto a stiff peak. Kate arches her back at the slightly rough rasp of his tongue over the sensitive nipple. "More Rick, more," she demands.

And then suddenly she's falling, her arms outstretched as she hits the luxurious cushioning of his bed. Her wide startled eyes look up to the evil grin on his face. He looks down at the tempting feast of her body, all graceful lines and subtle curves on display for him. Beckett would never admit it but she loves it when he takes control like this. Rick Castle is usually so metrosexual that it still stuns her when he shows this other dominating side to his personality. Tender and soft can be wonderful but greedy and passionate is what she needs right now.

But that doesn't mean that she's just going to lie back and play passive, if anything his aggression calls out to her own. Her direct gaze challenges him as she does a slow stretch, her arms stretched out above her. Beckett is not about to let him have it all his own way. The sinuous movement causing his eyes to heat even more, the blue orbs are like lasers as they burn into her skin.

Beckett isn't sure how she ends up naked, it happens so quickly. The next thing she's conscious of is the grip of his hands forcing her thighs even further apart so that he can settle between her legs.

The writer's clever fingers are everywhere; stroking down the curve of her neck, lightly pinching her painfully tight nipples, slipping into the moist cavern of her sex.

"You're dripping wet Kate," he tells her in a husky whisper. "Hot and wet for me."

The explicit words make the ache between her thighs tighten even more and Beckett's control breaks. She takes his erection in hand and guides the first inch inside her, a quick buck of her hips and she's deliciously impaled on that maddening rod.

Her movements take him by surprise but the writer is quick to adapt, the tempo of his hips matching hers. Each hard thrust stretches her thinly around that thick cock, the tension drawing ever tighter until finally the thread snaps and she diving head-first over the edge. Her body spasms, milking him as her orgasm rolls out.

Her low moan is matched by his growling rumble as he reaches his own climax.

* * *

><p>His hand strokes her back in the aftermath, their bodies are sated but nothing has changed. He wishes that they could stay here, just like this forever, but he knows that reality will rear its head again eventually.<p>

"You're breaking my heart Kate," he whispers softly.

It's not a recrimination or the opening jab to start another fight; just a statement of the facts. It still punches a staggering blow of pain; she'd give anything to spare him this.

Castle is such a good man, he deserves so much better than this, better than she can offer him.

"I'm sorry Rick."

There's not much point in carrying on the pretence of indifference. He's always known her too well to be deceived by it.

"I never wanted to hurt you," Beckett places a soft kiss over his heart like she's kissing it better. If only it was that easy to mend. "If it's any consolation then my heart is breaking too." It doesn't encompass all the things that he means to her but it's the closest that she'll come to admitting her feelings.

He hears the underlying message in her words. _I love you too _and _this changes nothing._

The sound of chime of his door bell breaks the spell. Beckett jumps up like a scalded cat at the interruption, quickly picking up her clothes as she makes a run for the bathroom.

"Kate?" he's too slow to grab her before she's out of his reach. He half sits up as he watches her retreating back. "Wait! We should talk."

"Not now Castle. That will be Ryan and Esposito, you should get dressed and let them in," she says before closing the door.

Rick lets his head fall back onto the pillow with a defeated sigh. Making love to Kate could have been either the best or the stupidest thing that he could have done. At this point in time he can't make be sure which of the two options it is.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"This is great Castle," Ryan says as he scans through the financial records for their suspect. "It's like _Police work for Dummies_. Your hacker friend has done all the boring work for us; he's even separated out any income that doesn't come from a legitimate source. There's no wading through piles of crap to find the one useful bit of information. Hey Beckett, do you think that we could persuade Captain Gates to hire this guy on as a technical consultant? It would sure make my life easier."

"Yeah, why not? It's not like Gates is a hardass, by-the-book kind of boss. I'm sure that she'd be happy to hire someone who illegally hacks into federally protected databases," she says sarcastically.

"I guess there is that one small technicality," Ryan mournfully concedes. "A man can dream though."

"Sorry to interrupt your dream but take a look at this," Castle points to the page where he's highlighted several lines. "It seems that Agent Somers likes to gamble, the only problem is that he's pretty bad at it. He was in debt to the tune of four hundred grand. And then it's like lady luck decided to turn it all around. Somers has been getting some hefty payouts from the casino in Queens, once a month without fail for the last year. Either that's a pretty long winning streak or …"

"He's laundering his money through the casino," Beckett and Castle both say it at the same time.

"It's so cute when you guys do that," Ryan teases them.

"Seriously, do you guys practice that or something? Because it is freaky how often it happens," Esposito looks from one to the other. "It's like you're an old married couple who've been together for so long that they start thinking alike."

"Well you know what they say about great minds," Castle says with a shrug.

"So we know that Somers is getting paid off for all his dirty work, which gives us motive. And I think this bit of info will prove how he did it. Look at this email that he sent to Shaw arranging a meeting at a café for the night of the murder," Kate lays the sheet of paper onto the desk so that they can all read it. "That café is only two blocks away from where Shaw was shot. That explains what she was doing in that part of town. He must have followed her after that meeting."

"Man, that is one cold bastard; setting up Shaw like that," Esposito shakes his head sadly. "How could you do that to your own partner?" he asks philosophically. "Partners are meant to have your back, not shoot you in the back."

"So can we go and arrest him now?" Castle asks her.

"No, unfortunately we have no evidence."

"What do you mean no evidence? We've just seen that he had both the motive and the means." Castle looks baffled, what have they been talking about for the last five minutes?

"I can't go to a judge with any of it. Castle, all of this has been obtained illegally so there is no way we could get an arrest warrant. Not to mention the fact that we could lose our jobs if we even tried it. No we still need to play it safe; we don't want to tip our hand just yet."

The writer can see her point even though it's frustrating to admit it. "So what do we do instead then?"

Beckett looks at her watch, it's almost ten o'clock. "Let's call it a night. Tomorrow I want you two to interview the staff at the café," Beckett points to Ryan and Esposito. "Show them photos of Somers and Shaw, see if anyone remembers seeing the pair of them that night."

"What are we going to do Beckett?"

"Well tomorrow is Friday."

He looks blankly at her, unsure of the significance of the date.

"Look at the dates of those deposits Castle. Do you see any pattern there?"

"Oh, I see. I guess we'll be making a visit to the casino then."

"Yeah, I want to follow Somers. If we're lucky we might be able to see how he's receiving his payoff. We have no idea of his schedule for tomorrow so the only place we can be fairly certain that Somers will be is his apartment, early in the morning. I'll come and pick you up at five thirty."

He makes a face at the ungodly hour but Beckett's right, he'll just have to make sure that he brings along some strong coffee to tide them through.

With their plans in place the team gathers up their coats to go. Castle keeps trying to catch Kate's eye without making it obvious to the other cops. They still need to talk about what happened earlier but she deliberately ignores him. She's not sure that she can cope with talking about it right now. She needs more time to process it; yeah another five years should just about do it.

He's got that look in his eyes like he's about to blurt something out; some ill-considered statement that would be totally inappropriate given the fact that they're not alone. To cut him off before he gets the chance she hustles quickly to the door, making sure that Esposito and Ryan are between Castle and her the whole time. She can't put it off forever but at least she won't have to deal with it tonight.

"Beckett …" the idiot tries despite her obvious attempts to dissuade him.

"See you in the morning Castle," and with a nod she's out the door and made good her escape.

* * *

><p>"What do you think is going on with those two?" Ryan asks as he buckles his seat belt.<p>

"What do you mean?" his partner replies as he gets into the driver's side.

"Didn't you notice how hyper Castle seemed tonight? And Beckett was sending out a definitely strange vibe."

"That could just be due to this case. Hell I'm feeling tense because of it as well." Esposito brushes off the other man's concerns.

"No, I'm telling you it was more than that. Did you notice that Beckett seemed a little flushed when we turned up tonight? And on top of that, Castle's hair was all messy. When have you ever seen it messy before? Even when he turns up to a crime scene in the middle of the night he's always got it styled. Castle has that whole 'ruggedly handsome' thing going on the entire time." Ryan lays out his little observations. "You don't think that the two of them were …" a quick nod of the head and a wry grin, "…you know …" it's a tentative query as the detective is less than confident about his conclusion.

"Do you mean have they sealed the deal?" Esposito asks.

"Yeah that."

"Have they done the deed?"

"You're creeping me out now."

"Made the beast with two backs?" Esposito keeps teasing him. "Bro, sometimes I can't believe that you're not a virgin. You can't even ask a direct question," he adds with a little chuckle.

"Fine! Do you think Beckett and Castle were having sex before we turned up?"

The two partners exchange a quick look before Esposito says "nah."

"I'm not saying that those two shouldn't be together, anyone who is around them for more than a minute can see that there's chemistry there. But Beckett is more likely to kick his ass rather than jump into bed with him. Aside from the fact that she's trying to turf him out of the precinct, can you really imagine Castle and Beckett having a quickie in the middle of the case?" Esposito laughs again. "As if Beckett would ever let that happen. They were probably arguing again before we turned up and that's why they were looking a bit out of sorts."

Ryan gives a nervous laugh, "Yeah, you're right. That's just crazy talk. I think that this case must be getting to me even more than I realized."

* * *

><p>She takes a deep breath, inhaling the heady aroma of coffee that fills the car as he hands over her double latte. "Thanks Castle," she gratefully takes the first sip, the hot beverage warms her fingers as she interlaces them around the cup. Her car is parked four doors down and across the road from Somers' apartment.<p>

The hour is early but there's already a building stream of traffic as the city wakes up to a new day. For a few moments the sound of the cars is the only thing that breaks the silence. Beckett would be more than happy to let it continue but she can tell that her partner won't be content with that. He keeps stealing glances at her every few minutes when they should both be on the lookout for Somers. Should she play ignorant or go on the offensive?

"Ok spit it out Castle," she says without taking her eyes off the building's entrance. Better to do this now when she is in control rather than letting him pick the time.

The writer jerks slightly in his seat at the unexpected opening. He's been sitting here, trying to figure out how to phrase things. One wrong word and this could all boil over into another fight.

"About last night … it wasn't just sex," he starts off tentatively. "You weren't just scratching an itch and you already know how I feel about you Kate," his voice becomes more confident as he moves onto firmer ground. "Don't lie and say it meant nothing."

"You're right," she sighs as she acknowledges the truth of his words. The lies that she told before didn't work so now she's going to try a different tack.

His heart gives a little leap of joy at her calm acceptance; maybe the hard headed detective is actually going to be reasonable about it. But her next words crush that joy even as it's being born.

"But our feelings don't alter the fact that it's too dangerous for you to keep shadowing me. You need to get out before something irreversible happens. I can't keep you safe Rick, not like this. Coonan and Lockwood were trained assassins; all it takes is one guy looking down the crosshairs." She fingers her bullet wound through her clothes. If Castle had been a half a second faster then it would have been him bleeding out on that green grass.

"I'm not some child that has to be protected. We're partners, I've got your back and you've got mine. I'm not going to let you do this alone," he's adamant in his resolve. "We're going to catch this bastard, you'll see."

Beckett bites her lip to stop the tender, melancholic smile that threatens to spill out. The earnest seriousness on his face is facet that the world is not used to seeing with Richard Castle. He hides this vulnerable side of himself so well that most people wouldn't know that it exists. No wonder she loves him when he is willing to risk it all for her.

"It's not just this case though. You've been shot at, tied up by a serial killer, almost frozen to death and bombed. It's all those other times as well. If you keep following me then it's bound to happen again. I don't think I could survive if something happened to you."

"Then you know exactly how I feel," he captures her hand, not allowing her to pull away.

It's a stalemate, he's neatly turned her argument back on her but Beckett is too stubborn to admit it. "But I'm the cop, I'm the one with the gun. It's my responsibility."

At that moment a car pulls out and her attention swings to the man behind the wheel, it's Somers. "Crap, not now Castle," Beckett swears as the FBI agent is about ten cars in front by the time she manages to turn her car around in pursuit. The detective can't believe that she let their personal issues interfere with the job at hand.

Rick sighs, another opportunity lost. He might have to do this all again but he swears that the detective is not going to have the last word on the matter.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The middle aged waitress stares at the two photos that Ryan has placed on the counter; they're headshots of both Agents Shaw and Somers. "Yeah I remember these two. They came in here maybe about a week and a half ago." She points to Jordan Shaw's image, "She asked me if there was a 7/11 nearby 'cos she had to pick up some Cheerios. Apparently it's the only cereal that her kid will eat."

"Do you remember what time that would have been roughly?" Esposito asks her.

"I reckon it must have been eight or thereabouts. I remember that it was coming to the end of my shift and thinking that I should pick up some milk myself."

"Did you happen to hear any of their conversation or remember anything unusual about their interaction?" Ryan asks as he carefully takes down the details on his notepad.

"I don't recall anything special; they weren't acting suspiciously or anything. Sorry I can't be of more help."

"No Penny, you've been very helpful. If you think of anything else then please call me," Esposito hands over his business card.

Penny looks confused as the two cops get up to leave. "Aren't you interested in the other couple?"

The partners share a quick glance at this fresh information. Ryan pulls out his pen and notepad again.

"What other couple?" he asks.

"The guy was here with two other people about half an hour before he met with the woman. I don't know what they were talking about but they were odd. Every time I came around to see if they wanted a top up on their coffees they would shut up tighter than a clam. When they left he waited around another fifteen minutes before the next woman turned up."

"Can you describe them?" the younger detective asks.

"Well the woman was African American, early fifties. She was dressed professionally, looked like she worked in office. The guy was younger, maybe late thirties. He looked clean cut but in a hard way, more ex-military than boy-next-door if you know what I mean."

It might turn out to be nothing but this is a new lead that they need to pursue. Maybe Somers had accomplices in the murder.

"Is there anything else that you remember Penny?" Ryan has his pen still poised, having almost been burned the first time he wants to make sure that they've gotten every last detail.

"No that's it, sorry guys."

"No, it's all good. Would you mind working with a police sketch artist so that we could get a picture of these people?"

"Sure, I get off work at three today, I could do it after that."

"Just come down to 12th Precinct. I'll set up an appointment for 3.30 pm. You can ask the desk sergeant for either Detective Esposito or Ryan," Esposito instructs her. "We appreciate your help."

"No problem. My cousin used to work out of the 98th; I know how tough you boys have it. Anything I can do to help is fine."

* * *

><p>"Esposito and Ryan, can I see you in my office please?" Captain Gates collars them as soon as they get back to the station, it's phrased as question but the tone is all command.<p>

It's telling that she doesn't offer them a seat but keeps them both standing, a subtle reminder of who is charge.

"How are things going on the Shaw case?" she asks them.

"We're making progress sir," Esposito answers for both of them, he keeps it deliberately vague. "We've got a solid lead and there is a person of interest that we're looking into."

"Good. The reason why I'm asking you is because the lead investigator appears to be missing. Do either of you know where Detective Beckett is? She hasn't come into the station at all today."

"She's doing some surveillance on the suspect at the moment."

"And exactly who is this suspect?" the captain interrogates the two men.

There's a moment of hesitation before Ryan answers. It's one thing to passively with-hold information from their captain, it's another to actually lie to her and the younger man has always been more of a rule-follower than his partner.

"Vaughn Somers, he's a FBI agent. He was partnered with Shaw a few years ago."

"A FBI agent?" Gates says incredulously. "I hope that you guys know what you're doing. If this turns out to be wrong then the feds will all over us. They'll accuse this department of bungling the case and then compounding the mistakes by falsely accusing one of them. Tell Beckett to report in to see me as soon as she gets back and keep me updated on your progress," she dismisses them.

* * *

><p>"Tell me that you've got some good news Esposito," Beckett answers her phone after a cursory look at the caller ID.<p>

"Well there's good news and bad news, which one do you want first?" the cop replies.

"Give me the bad news first," she sighs.

"Well Gates is the war path; we got pulled into her office this morning. The captain is not exactly happy about being kept out of the loop on this investigation. She wants you to report in as soon as you get back here."

"Damn it," Beckett softly swears. It's going to take some fancy foot work to get around Gates. How to explain what they've achieved so far without the divulging the illegal source of much of their information and that's not even taking into consideration how to keep Montgomery's name out of all of this. "Ok, I'll deal with Gates later. So what's the good news then?"

"We've got a credible witness who recalls Somers and Shaw meeting at that café the night of her murder. In addition to that, the waitress also saw Somers with a man and woman earlier on in the night. We don't have an ID on this couple yet but the witness is coming in to work with the sketch artist so at least we'll get an image to start the ball rolling."

"Good work Esposito."

"How about you guys? Any joy on your end?" he asks her.

"No it's been very boring. We've been tailing Somers all day and all he's done is gone into the office. He hasn't even gone out for lunch. I don't think that he'd be blatant enough to get his dirty pay off whilst in the middle of the FBI office so it must be coming later today."

"So you guys have been sitting in your comfortable car all day then? I bet that Castle must be driving you up the wall by now, sitting patiently is not his strength."

"You think?" Beckett says sarcastically. "There has been endless rounds of _Angry Birds_ accompanied by several cups of coffee, and now predictably, several toilet breaks. If he was any older I'd be recommending a good urologist."

Castle gives an indignant huff, he can only hear one side of the conversation but he's in no doubt that Beckett is talking about him. The raised eyebrow that she's giving him is a dead giveaway, as if daring him to protest.

Esposito laughs at that last comment. "I'll let you know if we turn up anything more from our end," he signs off.

Beckett slides her phone back into her jacket and eases back in her seat. Castle isn't the only one who is getting a bit impatient with this waiting but the cop is just more accustomed to putting up with the frustration in silence.

The writer shifts restlessly on his side of the car. It's unfortunate timing, given her recent comment, but his bladder is starting to feel uncomfortable again. _Just ignore it_ he tells himself but the feeling just gets worse.

"Umm Beckett?" he finally has to admit defeat.

"What is it Castle?" she replies with an arch look. The detective is fully aware of why he's been squirming in his seat but there's a certain satisfaction to be gained from rubbing it in.

"I'm going to get some snacks, do you want anything?" It's pride that prevents him from saying that he needs a toilet break, again.

"No, I'm good. But you might want to visit the little boys' room while you're there," laughter colors her voice. Even now in the middle of the most important case of her career Castle still manages to bring a little joy into her life, although on this occasion it wasn't deliberately.

"I'll make sure that I do Mom," he says with exaggerated dignity, Rick knows when he's beaten.

* * *

><p>She pushes back a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she scans the street for her errant partner. He said he was going to the gas station a block down the road but that was twenty minutes ago.<p>

A flicker of annoyance chases across her face as Beckett wonders where the hell the writer has gone to now. Knowing Castle it could be anything; a fan asking for a signature, a new phone app, or walking past a display of rare comic books. She pulls out her phone to call him but it goes directly to voice mail.

The first time that it happens she's not concerned, he's probably on the phone to someone else. On the second and third times the cop starts getting pissed. This might be boring but Castle should know by now that not all police work is making arrests and interrogating suspects. The tedious paper work and surveillance is just as important as all the flashy stuff when it comes to catching the criminal.

By the fifth time that anger is turning to worry. It's been half an hour and Castle should be back by now. Her options are to sit and wait a bit longer, or call in Ryan and Esposito, which will make her seem too anxious if they find Castle walking back, or go and look for the novelist herself. Beckett is weighing up the choices when a tap on her window snaps her attention back to the road.

She looks up, expecting to see Castle's visage but there's an unknown man holding a very familiar phone instead. He carefully angles his jacket slightly so that she can see he has his other hand on a concealed gun.

"Trying to call this?" he asks her.

The metallic tang of fear fills her mouth as she processes what it means. The dragon has got Castle, the bastard has got Castle.

"If you want to see him again then I suggest that you open this door and then put both hands on the steering wheel. No sudden movements or this could end very badly for Mr. Castle."

"If you've hurt him … I swear if you've hurt him then I will make you regret it for the rest of your life," Beckett threatens even as she complies with his demands.

"Don't worry detective, he's fine." _For now_ is unspoken but implied. The man pats her down quickly, throwing her phone and gun onto the floor of the passenger's side. He tosses Castle's phone down next to hers and then directs her out of the car. "Now you're going to walk calmly with me to that alley over there. Don't do anything stupid, just remember his life depends on this."

He stays on her left and slightly behind her as they walk behind the building, it doesn't give her any openings but she wouldn't have risked it anyway. They've got Castle and that's all the leverage that they need to get her compliance. She'll do whatever it takes to get him back safely.

"What now?" she asks as they reach the end of the alley. Those words are the last thing that she says before pain explodes in her head and the world spins. The cop drops to the dirty pavement from the slamming blow to the back of her head.

With a grunt the man hefts her dead weight over his shoulder like she was a bag of potatoes and walks over to the dark sedan parked nearby. The boot pops up to reveal Castle's still form and the man drops Beckett in next to her partner. He takes a moment to handcuff her hands behind her back. "Now it's time for this game to end," the man tells her unconscious body and then the boot slams and darkness descends.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Kate?" she can hear his urgent voice pulling her from sleep.

Beckett doesn't even need to audio clue though to know that it's him. His body is spooning hers and there's a smell that is uniquely Castle. It's not just his aftershave, his shampoo or the laundry detergent that he uses. It's all those things and something else that's … just Rick.

"Go back to sleep," she mumbles. "It's still dark." The words come naturally as if she's woken up with him hundreds of times before when, in reality, they've never even spent an entire night together. She shuffles back into his warmth and that's when she realizes that something is seriously wrong. Her head is throbbing and her shoulders ache but she can't relieve the pain because her arms can't move, metal surrounds her wrists and this isn't some kinky sex game.

"No Kate, you have to wake up," he nudges at her shoulder with his head because his hands are similarly restrained.

"Castle what's going on?" her mind is still only half awake.

"We've been abducted. Somehow Somers must have found out we were tailing him and then he got the drop on me. I didn't even see the guy coming. I remember getting hit and then I woke up here with you beside me."

"Ouch," Beckett tries to turn over so that she's facing him but the quarters are too cramped and she bumps her knee on something hard, hissing at the pain. "It wasn't Somers," she says once she gets her breath back. "It was another guy who came up to me with your phone."

"I'm so sorry Beckett. It was my fault, he got to you because of me," horror floods him.

"No Castle, it wasn't you. Somehow they were onto us. They could have been watching us this whole time."

Even though she's not blaming him, he still blames himself.

"But if I hadn't gone off by myself then we wouldn't be in this situation now."

"Listen to me Rick; I'm only going to say this once more. It wasn't your fault. These guys are professionals, it could have just as easily happened to me or Ryan or Esposito. Have a guilt party now isn't going to help. We have to concentrate on figuring how to get out of this."

"What about Esposito and Ryan? Surely they'll start looking for us when we don't check in?"

"Yeah they will but the chances of them finding us are low. We don't even have our phones so there's no way that they can track us. For now we can only rely on ourselves."

"Ok," he takes a deep breath to calm the rising panic. "What's our plan?"

"We need to figure out where we are."

It's obvious that they're being transported somewhere; there's the motion the vehicle combined with the hum of the motor.

"Do you know how long we've been moving for?" she asks him.

"No, when I woke up the car was already going and I could have been out of it for five minutes or it could have been an hour."

"It feels like we're out in the country."

"How can you tell?" he asks.

"It feels like the car has been going at a steady speed for the last five minutes, no slowing down or stopping so that means no traffic lights or intersections. He hasn't had to slow down for other traffic in front of him either. Also it's been a bit bumpy, all the municipal roads in New York are asphalt, and this feels more like a gravel or dirt road."

She doesn't have to add that this is bad for them; the further they get from the city the less likely they are to be rescued. Isolation means danger; the men that they're dealing with like quiet dark places, all sorts of bad things happen in the dark.

"Are your hands cuffed as well?" she asks because she can't turn over enough to see what state he's in.

"Yes, they're behind my back." He strains his shoulders as he reaches back to feel around in the dark of the boot; maybe there could be some tool here that could help them. "Damn, there's nothing useful that I can feel, just some rope and some kind of plastic or nylon material, maybe a tarpaulin."

Even as he's exploring behind him, Beckett is doing some kind of shuffling movement in front. If he didn't know better then he would have thought that she was trying to grope him. "Uh Kate? What are you doing?"

"Grrrrh," she moans, it's an involuntary sound as the metal of the handcuffs bite into her wrists. Her shoulders are dropped and her knees pulled up as high as the cramped space allows her. Her whole body is straining as she attempts to pull her cuffed arms under her bottom, even if her hands aren't free it would be better to have them in front of her rather than behind. She comes tantalizingly close, only a couple more inches would have done it but no cigar. There's just not enough space in the boot for her to do it and she gives up with a groan.

"Can you back up any more, Castle? I just need a bit more space and I might be able to get my hands in front of me," Beckett tells him.

He does a little wriggle on his side but it only gives her another half a foot. It's still not enough space but that doesn't prevent her from attempting it again. All that she gains for her efforts are more abrasions on her wrists. She slumps forward again to give her shoulders a break.

"It's no good," she states the obvious. "I can't do anything, at least not as long as we stuck in here."

"What are we going do when the car stops?" he whispers, the situation is bad now but it's only going to get worse once they get to their destination.

"No heroics," she tells him. "Whatever they want, just do it. He could have killed us back in that alleyway but he didn't. That means that they want something from us, so they'll keep us alive for now. As long as we're alive then there's still a chance"

"Ok," he murmurs his assent. Silence descends as they both contemplate the different scenarios that might unfold. Now might not be a good time but there might never be another time. "Kate? If something happens …"

"Don't you say it," she interrupts him. "Don't you dare say it." Kate Beckett is the queen of denial; if it's left unsaid then does it mean that it doesn't exist?

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry," he talks right over her, determined to get it all out even as she keeps shaking her head. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

"I've already told you that it's not your fault Castle."

"No, I'm not apologizing for today, I'm saying sorry for all of this. You'd walked away from and I was the one who went back and dug into your mother's case again. Coonan, Lockwood, Montgomery, the sniper who shot you; none of those things would have happened if I hadn't kept my nose out of it." His voice breaks at the last.

His words are breaking her heart; he's assuming a burden of guilt that she's never placed on him. Kate wants to take him in her arms and hug him for all that she's worth but she can't even offer him that comfort at present.

"Evil prevails when good men fail to act," she quotes. "You, Rick Castle, are a good man and so you acted. You were trying to get justice for my mother, for me. The dragon hasn't won yet but he would have won if you'd done nothing."

Kate Beckett thinks that he is a good man; the funny thing is that her belief and expectations of him are what push him to be that good man. No wonder he loves this woman, even now she doesn't blame him when it would have been so easy to do so. Her absolution is a balm to his soul; it makes it a little easier to face whatever comes next.

"Thank you Kate." His breath brushes against her ear, maybe he can't hold her but this is the closest that he can get. "I love you." He says it because the words just want to bubble up and out of him, there's no way he can hold them back.

She gasps and tears threaten, it feels like he's already saying goodbye. It's echoes of the first time he said _I love you, _on the green grass of the cemetery as she bleed out in his arms.

Her voice is a husky growl as she tries to choke back the emotion, "don't. Please don't. I'm not giving up and I won't let you give up either."

His nose nuzzles at the sensitive spot behind her ear, as innocent as a baby and yet the most intimate touch she's ever felt. This man manages to slip past every barrier that she's erected.

"It's ok Kate, you don't have to say anything back," he assures her. "I just needed to say it. That's enough for me."

She sniffs, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat. The first tear spills, forging a path down her face that the others follow. How many other times have they faced death together and she's been on the brink of admitting her feelings? Maybe this will be the last time. She has enough regrets in her life; she's not going to let this be another one.

"I love you too," it's barely a whisper at first. "I love you Rick," she repeats it again, her voice is firmer the second time. "Whatever it takes, I'm going to get you out of this."

His breath is stolen away by her confession and her resolve. He rains down kisses on those parts of her face that he can reach; her ear lobe, the corner of her eye, the side of her mouth.

Her eyes are red and burning, and her voice is high and nasally, her sinuses are all congested, it happens every time she cries. She's all disgusting and messy. It's not exactly a _Mills and Boon_ moment. Imperfection but it's the best they can do for now.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

The vehicle glides to a halt and then the car door opens and closes. The two unwilling passengers in the boot wait with a sense of foreboding as footsteps round the side of the car. It sounds like a heavy step, or it could just be their imaginations, so does it mean their kidnapper is some giant of a man?

Castle finds himself unconsciously tensing up. It's not like he can spring into action as soon as the boot in opened, it's more likely that he'll remain trussed up like some kind of Christmas turkey, but psychologically it feels better to be tensed and prepared.

"No heroics," Kate reminds him. "Just do whatever they want."

He doesn't get a chance to reply before the car boot is popped and they are blinded by the bright sunlight after what feels like hours in the dark. The man is only a shadowy outline, backlit by a halo of light. The writer squints as his pupils contract, adjusting to the level of illumination.

The man doesn't say anything as he surveys the handcuffed couple. He reaches in and with only a slight huff of exertion he manhandles the detective out of the boot and back onto her feet. Beckett sways for a moment, her legs unsteady after all that time spent cramped up in the small space. She doesn't remain upright for very long though.

The gunman frogmarches her a few yards away and forces her down onto her knees with her back to him. "Don't even think about it. If you move a muscle I'll shoot your partner before you even turn around," he warns her as he walks back to pull Castle out next.

It's a tempting opportunity. Beckett knows that there'll be a small window to act, a critical few seconds when the man will have to put his gun away, it'll take both his hands in order to get Castle's bulkier frame out of the boot. The only problem is that she can't see what's going on behind her, there's no way to tell when that finger is off the trigger, while she remains in his direct line of sight. Reluctantly the detective concedes that this is not the time to act and instead scans the scene in front of her.

It looks like the car is parked on a private road or driveway; it's only marked by a couple of ruts in the dirt. It's not yet dusk but the sun is sitting quite low on the horizon, which makes it about five or six pm. So wherever they are, it's about a four to five hour drive from Manhattan. That's a huge area for her team to cover. Esposito and Ryan will have started a search by now but without any clues to help them the rescue may not come in time.

From the grunt of effort and then the heavy thud of something hitting the ground she can tell that Castle is also out of the boot. The novelist's half muttered curse confirms that it wasn't a gentle landing.

"Get up," the gunman commands her as the writer shuffles up to her side.

"Are you ok Castle?" she whispers to her partner.

"Hey, no talking," the kidnapper orders them.

Castle gives her a little nod; it's enough to let her know that there's been no serious injury.

"Let's go," a shove in the back sends her stumbling forward along the path to a dilapidated old wooden barn. It sits about 150 yards back from where the car is parked and is partially hidden by a dense copse of trees; you would have to know that it was there in order to find the place.

The air is stale with the odour of old manure and livestock as they enter the building. Mottled light streams in from dirt encrusted windows to reveal a structure that consists of a large open space with smaller stalls that are sectioned off towards the back of the building. The stalls might have once been used to house horses but it's obvious that it's been many years since they were last occupied.

"Get in the last stall Mr Castle," the gunman points to the only stall that still has a functioning door.

The writer hesitates, looking at Beckett first as if waiting for her approval. Getting split up like this can't be a good thing.

"I'm the one with the gun and it's not a suggestion. You can either get in there or I can test out my marksmanship."

With reluctance Castle heads into the stall, the door slamming shut behind him. A wooden beam slides down to lock it in place. Through the bars of the stall he can see it; if he had his hands free then he'd even be able to reach it but with his arms handcuffed behind him it's as secure as any prison cell.

"So what happens now?" Beckett stands defiantly staring down the wrong end of the gun.

"My employer is very unhappy with you Detective Beckett. You're like a cockroach; somehow you manage to survive even when you've been squashed. That's very poor manners on your part, digging into things that are best left alone. Now you're going to tell me exactly what information you have about the deaths of Jordan Shaw and Johanna Beckett. Who else is involved in this investigation and how much do they know?"

The cop remains silent, there's no way she's going to volunteer that kind of information and they both know it. This is what the dragon is after and as soon as his henchman has extracted that information then their lives will be forfeit. This is their one bargaining chip and Beckett isn't going to squander it.

"You don't want to talk? That's fine by me. It's always more satisfying to beat the answers out of you." The kidnapper smiles but there is no humour in it. It's more an expression of satisfaction as he puts his gun away.

"Don't touch her! Don't you dare touch her!" Castle slams himself against the bars of the stall, it makes an impressive sound but the structure holds steady. He is an unwilling witness, helpless to intervene.

Beckett flings out a roundhouse kick, trying to sweep her opponent's feet out from under him but the gunman easily sidesteps it. He catches her leg and uses her own momentum to upend her; she lands heavily onto her shoulder.

"Is that all you've got Beckett?" he taunts her. Instead of going in for the kill though he allows her to get back up to her feet again. The man is playing with her like a mouse caught in the paws of a sadistic cat.

The cop is at a heavy disadvantage, handcuffed as she is. And it's obvious that her opponent is no novice, he's had serious hand to hand combat training. Even if her hands were free she'd be no match for this guy. He's fluid on his feet, anticipating her moves easily and blocking them as if she no more dangerous than some infant. Each block is also accompanied by a punishing punch or kick.

The fist to her cheek sends her spinning, a coppery taste fills her mouth as her teeth cut against the soft lining. She spits out the bloody mouthful like a boxer between bouts. The second punch is solid blow to the sternum that knocks the breath out of her and she's gasping like an elderly smoker, doubled over and sucking in air.

"Would you like to reconsider your response?" the kidnapper asks her. Her reply is steely glare as she pulls herself straight again.

She can hear Castle shouting, maybe some imprecation, threat or plea to the gunman. Like a gladiator with the roar of the crowds she can't focus on it, she has to concentrate on defending herself.

Sheer stubbornness keeps her on her feet long past the point where most people would have given up. But there are physical limitations that even determination can't overcome. She goes down for the last time after a stunning blow to the back of the head. There's a second of blackness and she's down on the ground. This time there is no reprieve as her opponent unleashes a barrage of kicks as she lies there helplessly. All she can do is curl up in the fetal position, offering him the smallest possible target to aim for.

"Oh God, Kate. No. Please, no." Tears are streaming down from his eyes as Castle watches her being pummelled. He slams himself against the stall frame again, frenzied like some rabid animal and unmindful of the pain he is causing himself in his desperate need to help her. "I'll tell you everything you want to know. I'll do whatever you want. Just stop it. Please don't hurt her anymore, don't hurt her," the writer pleads brokenly.

The gunman leans down to lift her head up by her hair. One eye is already swollen shut and blood seeps from a cut above her eyebrow. "Do you hear that Detective? He must really love you to break so easily," the man taunts her. "I thought I'd get at least to round two before I'd get that information."

"Castle … no," every word brings pain as her split lip protests against any movement. Beckett ignores it though, she has to stop Castle. They're only alive as long as their enemy doesn't have that information. Even if she has to go another five rounds of this then she'll do it to buy them time.

The gunman lets go of her hair, letting her head thud back down with agonizing results. He stands to dust his hands disdainfully as he surveys his beaten opponent before he turns his attention to the writer. "So what information do you have and who else knows it?"

Castle is a storyteller, a modern day bard. Words are his milieu, not fists. He's not a fighter but at this moment he would happily rip this man apart, tear his head off and feel joy in watching him die. "What kind of lowlife scum beats a woman who has her hands tied? That wasn't even a fair fight." Hatred seethes through his every word.

The gunman smiles. "I'm not interested in a fair fight Mr Castle. I'm just interested in winning. Enough with insults already, tell me what I want to know or else your partner will be getting another beating."

"Castle .." the cop pants between bouts of pain as she tries to roll over and get to her feet once again.

"It's ok Kate. Please Kate don't hurt yourself," Rick begs her, praying that she'll just stay down. _Don't get up, don't give this guy another reason to hurt you_.

The gunman has turned back towards Beckett and Castle speaks up quickly to distract his attention.

"We know about your boss Warren Simcocks. He's the man who started this whole scheme. Dirty cops, kidnapped Mafioso, corrupt politicians. Simcocks might have clean façade but behind that pretence is a liar, a blackmailer, an arms dealer and a murderer. He's the man who hired Dick Coonan to kill Johanna Beckett. Simcocks also hired you to kill Jordan Shaw."

"That's very good Mr Castle," the gunman congratulates him. "Very accurate indeed. It seems such a shame that I'm going to have to kill both of you after all the hard work that you've done."

"If you kill us then Simcocks is going to be a very unhappy man," the writer threatens him.

The man tilts his head slightly in confusion, "I don't see why that would be."

"All the information that I know, all those documents that Roy Montgomery sent to me, will plastered all over the internet if you kill us. I've set up a deadman's switch. If my contact doesn't hear from me everyday then they'll post it up for the whole world to see. It will go viral within a day and your boss will come under some rather intense heat."

"If you had proof to back up all of your allegations then you would have arrested Simcocks already," the gunman scoffs. "I think that you might know a lot but you don't have the hard evidence to prove it."

"That's the beauty of the internet," Castle tells him. "I don't have to prove anything. It's not a court of law, it doesn't have to be beyond reasonable doubt. I just have to point out enough of the circumstantial stuff to plant the seed of doubt in people's minds. And I never specified that the heat would only be coming from the justice system, being arrested might be the least of Simcocks' concerns. I think the mafia families would be very interested to find out who was behind the kidnappings for ransom of their members. And there's also the Irish gangs and the Chinese triads. Don't you think that they would find it interesting that Simcocks was selling guns to both of them and making a tidy profit as they used those guns to shoot each other's brains out? You need to keep us alive or else your boss is going to find himself in some very dire waters indeed."

**A/N: Thanks to everyone reading and reviewing. Sorry I don't usually reply to individual reviews, it's hard enough finding time to write the story, but I do appreciate them.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Esposito slams the door of Beckett's Crown Vic in frustration. After Beckett missed her check in call the other detectives had been immediately suspicious. It hadn't taken long to track down the car using its GPS unit but that was as far as their investigation had taken them.

A quick search of the car has already turned up two phones and Beckett's gun. Other than that though, there's no clue as to what's happened to the missing duo. "There's no sign of a fight but there's no way that Beckett would have left her service piece behind on the floor of her car, not willingly at least. The dragon must have gotten to them," Esposito bangs his hand on the roof of the car to vent his agitation.

"We've got to inform Gates that Beckett and Castle are missing. This investigation is too big now, we've got to tell the Captain. If Montgomery was here, he'd say the same thing. Beckett and Castle's lives are more important than protecting his reputation. If they're in trouble then we're going to need all the help we can get to find them," Ryan tells his partner.

"Yeah you're right bro," Esposito agrees readily, his immediate concern for his missing colleagues outweighing his loyalty to his dead captain. There's a sick feeling stirring in his stomach. The pair have been missing for at least a couple of hours and who knows what's happened to them in that time?

* * *

><p>"So you're telling me that detectives in my department have been carrying out a rogue investigation right underneath my nose?" Gates blasts Ryan and Esposito. "That, in fact, you have been withholding information from your superior officer. Not just withholding but actually lying to me about the details of the case! I should have you all suspended right now, that's what you deserve." She's practically yelling by the end.<p>

"Yes sir," the boys mumble contritely.

Gates fumes silently at them as she regains her control before she speaks again. "You can stay on the case for now. It's not a reprieve, I just need all the manpower we've got to find Beckett and Castle. However, as soon as this is over then I'll have you up on report. You'll be lucky if you don't get busted back to foot patrol."

Ryan mutely nods his acceptance of the upcoming punishment while Esposito stares fixedly at some point on the wall as he grinds his teeth.

"Get some uniforms canvassing the area where Beckett's car was parked, maybe someone might have seen something. Also check if any of the nearby buildings had surveillance cameras. Get going!" Gates barks out commands as the detectives rush out of her office, relieved to be dismissed.

He's still recovering from the tongue lashing so Esposito is understandably agitated and it takes him a few seconds to make sense of the middle-aged woman who is sitting patiently by his desk.

"Did I come at a bad time Detective Esposito?" she asks him.

"No Penny, you're fine," he drags her name out of the depths of his memory. "I'll take you to see the sketch artist. It would be great if we could get a picture of the two other people you saw that night at the diner. Come with me."

She stands and gathers her bag from beside the chair. "Well I can certainly describe the man for you."

"What about the woman who was also there? Don't you remember her very well?" Ryan asks.

"Oh no, I remember her perfectly well but you don't need a picture of her," Penny replies.

The two detectives exchange a confused look.

"We won't?" Esposito voices the obvious question. "Why not?"

"Because it's her, the woman that was just yelling at you a few minutes ago. I assumed that she's a cop who was undercover that night."

The guys are so dumbstruck by the bombshell that Penny has dropped that they don't even correct her mistaken assumption. Ryan recovers first and steps forward to hurry the woman out of the bullpen. He turns her slightly making so that her face isn't as visible, if Gates happens to look out of her window he doesn't want her to catch sight of the waitress who has just fingered her as part of the conspiracy. The two detectives hustle her to the lift and out of Homicide.

"Are you sure about that Penny? That's the same woman who came to your café that night?" Ryan questions her as soon as the elevator doors close and they're safely out of sight.

"Yeah I'm sure," the waitress looks from one partner to the other with confusion. "Is something wrong?" she asks. Penny is bewildered by the matching looks of worry on the faces of the two cops.

"No, it's just that we've just realized that the two people you saw with Somers are part of an undercover operation," Esposito lies to placate the woman's concerns. "Sorry to have wasted your time but I guess we won't need you to work with the sketch artist after all." They have to get Penny out of the building and fast. If Gates catches sight of the waitress then she may realize that her connection to Somers and the dragon has been made.

"Oh, ok then. Sorry I wasn't more helpful."

"Penny you've been more helpful than you know," Ryan reassures her as Penny exits on the ground floor. The detectives remain in the lift though and continue down to the parking level. Esposito looks around to make sure that they're not being observed before ducking into the deserted stairwell to ensure their privacy.

"I always thought it was strange that Gates got appointed Captain in Homicide. She's worked in Internal Affairs for almost all of her career and all of a sudden she's transfering into Homicide," Ryan points out the odd facts. "She must have been arranged it so that she could keep an eye on us, to make sure that Beckett wasn't still pursuing her mother's murder case."

"Yeah but now we're going to be the ones watching her. She doesn't know that we're onto her and hopefully we can use that to our advantage. If we monitor her calls and follow her then that might be our best chance of finding Beckett and Castle," Esposito says.

"How are we meant to follow her though? Gates knows who we are and she'd make us out from 200 yards away."

"Do you remember the case of that art historian who was murdered by her ex-boyfriend last year?"

"Oh yeah," Ryan nods as he realizes where Esposito is going with this.

"He picked up a $200 GPS tracking unit from the Spy Shack and attached it to her purse. It was only about the size of button but that was how he was stalking her. If we could plant one of those on Gates, maybe slip it into her coat, then we could stay well out of her sight but still follow her to wherever she goes. She must be reporting back to someone about all of her inside knowledge of our case. If we can follow that trail back then we might be able to find Beckett and Castle in time."

* * *

><p>Beckett moans as her whole body protests against the ascent back to consciousness. She's lying on her stomach, the side of her face pressed against the dirt. It feels like even her eyebrows are aching, that's how sore she is. "Castle," his name is the first thing on her lips as she recalls exactly why she feels like she's been run over by a train.<p>

"Beckett, I'm right here," his voice sounds very close.

For a second there appears to be two of him before the images coalesce into one as her eyes open slowly to see him hovering over her, concern making the lines of his face seem more deeply etched. He's kneeling by her side, as close as he can get. Still handcuffed, he hasn't been able to even lift her head off the dirt floor. He can't help her, he can't even wipe off the blood that has dried in a jagged track running from the cut in one eyebrow to the corner of her mouth. It's killing him that she's hurting so badly and there's nothing he can do to make anything better. His proximity is the only comfort that he can offer her.

"Where is he?" she asks.

"He threw you in here with me maybe about an hour ago and then he left. I think he was reporting back to the dragon because he had his phone out before he left the barn. He hasn't come back since."

The detective tries pull her knees up further under her torso. If she can just manage that then she'll be able to sit herself up.

"Kate, don't move you'll hurt yourself."

She ignores him though, determined to be at least upright before their enemy gets back. She manages to make it into an almost kneeling position, her face; knees and toes are the only points in contact with the floor. Grit and old straw is being rubbed into her cuts as she levers herself up using her forehead to push against the ground. It's a minor victory but Beckett grunts with satisfaction as she kneels back on her haunches.

"Is there any chance of getting out of here before he gets back?" she asks Castle.

"No, this barn is old but solid. It's only a simple wooden beam that keeping the door of this stall closed but there's no way to slide it out of its brackets. At least not with my hands cuffed like this, I can't stretch far enough between the bars to reach it."

Beckett gets up slowly to her feet to inspect the door for herself. The metal bars run from the ceiling to about her chest height. Below that the walls are composed of solid wood. She can see the beam that Castle described, it lies tantalizingly close but she'd need to be able to wriggle one arm and shoulder in between the bars in order to even get a fingertip on it.

"Maybe you should sit down for a bit," he suggests as she seems to sway on her feet. "Conserve your energy for later."

She slumps down next to him with the wall at her back; he's right, she needs to rest and recover during this interlude because there's nothing more productive that she can do.

"Were you bluffing before?" Beckett asks. "When you were talking about the deadman's switch."

"No, that's all real. I knew that these guys are serious and the only real protection that we had was the threat of public disclosure. Even if something happens to us at least Simcocks won't get away with it entirely."

"That was really smart of you Castle."

"Well I do have my moments." He smiles faintly and tries to inject a small bit of humor into the situation. "I always knew that you weren't just letting me hang around you because of my good looks and money. Not to mention the hot sex."

Her green eyes are staring at his face, there's a undertone of insecurity to his words that the casual observer wouldn't have picked up. Despite her declaration when they were in the boot of the car, it seems that he still isn't confident about her feelings. She can understand his doubt so she doesn't blame him. After all she's been sending him mixed messages all along, pushing him away even though she wants nothing more than to hold on tight and never let him go. She looks down at her lap as she tries to figure how to say it, how to explain the twisted logic behind her actions.

"I'm an emotionally closed off, control freak with commitment issues," Beckett's voice is so soft that he can only just make out the words even though he's sitting right next to her.

Castle is confused; he's not sure where she's going with this. He studies her profile because she won't bring her eyes up to meet his as she stumbles through her confession.

"Maybe that's why it took me so long to figure it out but I do love you, Rick." Kate takes a deep breath before continuing. "It's taken being shot and then kidnapped for me to admit it but I've been in love with you for a long time now. That's why I've been trying to push you away."

"Kate, that makes no sense. You love me but you don't want me around?"

"I love you so I wanted to keep you safe," Kate explains. "Look at where we are! This is exactly what I was scared of. My life is a mess; I'm like a black hole pulling you into danger. If I could've convinced you that I thought that was just sex then eventually you'd get angry enough to walk away, that you'd give up on me."

"Ha! As if that was ever going to work," he scoffs. "You haven't quite cornered the market on stubbornness Kate. I can be pretty persistent too."

"Yeah it was stupid of me to even try," Beckett owns up to her mistake. "You've put up with all my crap for the last 3 years, I should have known that you wouldn't fall for it. I'm so sorry that I hurt you but even when I was being an idiot I was doing it for what I thought was the right reasons."

The cop looks up at him hesitantly from beneath the fall of her hair as if she's afraid of what she'll see on his face. She needn't be though because the only thing that she can see is forgiveness. He has such a big heart, a generous heart, that it bowls her over. Some people might call him stupid for offering it to her, especially after everything that she's put him through, but really it's brave.

Castle turns to place a gentle kiss against her left temple, it's the only place on her face that doesn't look bruised. There's benediction and forgiveness in that light touch and she leans into him. Kate knows that she probably doesn't deserve him. She definitely doesn't deserve a second chance but if they get out of here, no, _when_ they get out of her she's going to make it her mission in life to make sure that he never regrets that decision.

**A/N: I saw the promo for the season five premiere yesterday and I'm still squeeling. Why isn't it Sept 24th yet?**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

The temperature has dropped as night falls. The partners are huddled together in the pitch black of the barn. Beckett sits on his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. It's frigging cold and his warmth is the only thing that's keeping her teeth from chattering. There are too many reminders of the time they almost froze to death.

"So this is what it takes to get you to snuggle with me Kate," the joke is pretty lame and he knows it.

"You make a good heater Castle." She'd like to wrap him around herself like a big electric blanket.

"So are you saying that I'm hot then?" he teases her.

"Is this what it's come to? You have to trick people into paying you compliments?" There are equal parts of exasperation, mockery and fondness in her tone.

"Kate Beckett thinks that I'm hot!" he hams it up even more for her benefit.

A puff of laughter escapes Beckett which she tries to disguise as a snort of derision but he's not fooled. It gives him a good feeling to hear it. Maybe he can't get them out of here but at least for a few minutes he can get her mind off their precarious situation. Beckett's still chuckling when the sound first comes; it's so faint that she thinks that she's imagining it.

"Did you hear that Castle?"

"Hear what?"

Beckett concentrates as her ears strain to hear the sound again. "I think there are people coming."

"Is someone there?" she yells out even as she struggles to her feet.

"Beckett, what are you doing? Shh," he tells her.

"If we're lucky then it could be strangers who could get us out of here. If not, and it's the gunman, then he already knows where we are. We've got nothing to lose," she explains. "We're over here," Beckett shouts out even louder.

"Help!" Castle gets up and adds his voice to the noise level.

The footsteps sound like they are getting closer, they never wane in their pattern but they don't speed up either. Twin beams of torch light flicker and intertwine like mating fireflies as they shine through the bars of the stall and onto the restrained figures within. After being in the dark for so long even the faint light from the torches is blinding. Beckett looks down, trying to shield her eyes and protect her night vision. Castle does the opposite, staring past the light as he tries to discern the people standing on the other side of the wall. The writer falls silent as he realizes that it isn't the cavalry that's arrived.

There are four figures, but only three of them advance close enough for the writer to identify them, the last person stands so far back that they're little more than a shadow. He recognizes the men holding the flashlights as Somers and the gunman. The face of the third man is also very familiar although Castle has only ever seen him in photos.

"Simcocks," Castle says it like it's a curse.

Beckett looks up at the name. It's instinctive, this need to stare at the man who sent her world tumbling all those years ago. His face is weathered but kindly, distinguished even, with the dusting of silver along the temples. She can't help but think that it's wrong, so wrong that the outward appearance doesn't betray the evil that lurks inside.

"Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle," Simcocks sighs as if he's disappointed. "I understand that you've been causing complications yet again."

"I'm so sorry that we're making things difficult for you," Beckett says sardonically.

"You should be sorry because people who get in my way end up getting hurt," Simcocks' face hardens, the grandfatherly façade shed like an old snakeskin. "But I think that you already know that Detective. Your mother and Montgomery learnt that lesson as well."

Beckett growls, a low hum of threat. How dare he bring up her loved ones, the people that he's had killed? She'd like to pound that smug smile of his face.

"But you're a slow learner aren't you Beckett? You should have stayed down. If you'd backed off after your shooting I might have even left you alone. Instead you stirred things up again and here we are. Mr. Maddox," he nods to indicate the gunman, "tells me that the situation has reached an impasse; if you disappear or die then certain information about my dealings will become public knowledge. So I can't have you killed but I also can't just let you go."

"Sure you could. Just let us go and we'll stop the investigation," the writer promises.

Beckett bites back her growl of dissent, she'd never agree to just let it go but the cop already knows that Simcocks would never buy it anyway.

"No Mr. Castle, it doesn't work that way. You have something that I want and as a guarantee I'm going to take something that you want. I'm going to let you go but Detective Beckett is going to enjoy my … _hospitality_. If you want to ensure her ongoing safety then that dossier that you have on me needs to remain well out of the public domain."

"No, that's not acceptable. You can't take her, it's not negotiable. Don't you think that there would be an investigation if a NYPD officer goes missing? The investigation would be easier to stop if you just let both of us go," Castle insists.

"You're right about one thing Mr. Castle, this isn't a negotiation. I'm telling you what is going to happen. And as far as the NYPD is concerned Detective Beckett isn't going to go missing, she's going to walk off the job." Simcocks pauses to direct a cold smile at Beckett. "I hear that you've been having panic attacks ever since the shooting."

The detective is stunned, only a few people know about it, people that she thought she could trust.

"Maybe something about this case triggers a really bad attack. In fact, it's so bad that you decide that you just have to get away from everything," Simcocks paints the scenario. "There'll be phone calls to your father, your friends and work to tell them that you're leaving town for a while, that they shouldn't worry; you just need some time alone. I'm sure that you can be a convincing actress if it's necessary."

"Why would I do that?" Beckett sneers.

"You'll do it or I'll have Mr. Maddox kill someone else close to you. Not Castle obviously, I need him alive but I'm sure that there are plenty of other candidates. The target could be your father, your friend the M.E. or maybe Mr. Castle's pretty teenage daughter?"

"Ok," she bows to the inevitable. It's clear that Simcocks is more than ready to carry through on his threat. He's already responsible for at least three deaths; another life won't mean anything to him.

"It's good to see that you can be reasonable," Simcocks motions to Maddox to open the stall door.

"No Beckett! I'm not going to let you play the martyr. Surely there's got to be an alternative," Castle pleads. He looks aghast that she would even contemplate it.

"It's ok Castle, this is our only option. At least we'll both still be alive," Beckett tries to reassure him. As long as there is life then there is hope. She leans into him, pressing her forehead against his and blocking out the presences of the other people. Despite the lack of privacy she needs to imprint the image, smell and feel of him into her memory; it may have to sustain her for a long time ahead. "You almost jumped in front of a bullet for me, let me do this for you," she whispers to him.

Hands are already reaching in to pull them apart. Maddox restrains Castle as Somers drags Kate away.

"Give us a thirty minute head start then blindfold Castle and drive him back to the city," Simcocks issues instructions to Maddox. "I want to make sure that he can keep his end of the bargain."

The gunman nods his understanding as the other start to walk away.

"Wait! I'll need proof" Castle demands.

Simcocks half turns back, "What?"

"I don't trust you so I'll need proof of life," the writer elaborates. "Otherwise you could kill her as soon as you're out of sight."

"A picture of Beckett with the front page of the New York Times will be emailed to you daily. I trust that that will be sufficient."

Castle gives a curt nod.

"Good because that is the last concession that I'm making. Don't try to look for her; don't give the file to another FBI agent, make sure that this case stays closed. Just remember, Beckett will be safe as long as you do your part. Don't do anything stupid Castle or else Beckett will regret it."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It was only a short car trip from the barn where Castle is being held to wherever it is that they've taken her now. It felt like only ten minutes or less before she was being bundled out of the car again. Someone has grabbed hold of her arm and is guiding her along now. Beckett doesn't think that the helping hand is due to a sense of remorse or guilt. It's more likely they got tired of her slow pace and constant stumbling; the lack of her usual grace is due to the combination of the uneven path and the blindfold that steals even the limited night vision that she had.

"Steps," she recognizes the voice as belong to Special Agent Somers. It's difficult being blind and having to trust someone else to guide you down stairs; especially when that person would rather shoot you than see you safely to your destination. She goes slowly like some elderly person; one foot stretched out and tapping ahead to feel the next step before the second foot joins it until she makes it to the bottom. His hand then pushes on the back of her head, forcing her to stoop over as she slips under some kind of low doorway. Beckett stumbles even further into the room as the door shuts behind her and then she's alone.

Without sight she's reliant on her other senses to explore her environment. She takes tentative small steps backwards until her fingers feel the rough wood of the door behind her. The cop stamps her feet on the floor; from the dull sounds she'd guess it was dirt rather than wood or concrete. With one hand on the wall Beckett paces out the dimensions of her cell. It's about six by four and as far as she can tell there's nothing else in the room except her.

She's trying to stay strong but it's hard to be optimistic when the odds are stacked against you. Her whole body aches from the beating that she took but what hurts the most is the despair that threatens. She's separated from everyone she loves and they've got no way of finding her. Beckett wonders if she'll slowly go crazy as the days and then weeks and months grind by. If she was given a choice would she opt for the bullet rather than clinging to life when all hope is gone?

The detective knows that her friends will never give up on her; Castle will never stop trying but will it be enough?

"Please come and find me Rick. Please come and find me." Her whispered prayer is met only by silence.

* * *

><p>"Whatever he's paying you I'll pay you more," the writer attempts to bribe the gunman. "If you tell me where they're taking her I'll give you the cash up front. You can take the money and disappear overseas."<p>

Maddox doesn't reply; just pushes Castle back into the stall and shuts the door again. Maybe there is honor among thieves after all, or the more likely reason is that the gunman is worried about the repercussions of double dealing the dragon.

"Simcocks is going to get caught sooner or later. You don't have go down with him; get out while you can."

"Shut up," Maddox is getting fed up with the writer's incessant noise. "I don't want to hear anything more out of you. We've got another twenty minutes to wait and it had better be a silent fifteen minutes."

"If you don't want to run then we could cut you a deal; immunity for turning evidence on him. The DA is going to be more interested in the headman, not the foot soldiers." Castle keeps talking despite the threat, this guy is his only hope of getting to Kate so if he has to talk himself blue in the face then he'll do it. There's got to be something that Maddox wants, something that convince him to turn on his employer. "Whatever it is that you want we can work something out, I can make it happen."

"All that I want is for you to shut the hell up," Maddox growls as he stalks out of the barn, finally fed up with being harangued.

The gunman is barely out the door when familiar voices shout out, "NYPD! Let me see your hands." It only takes him a split second to assess the situation; there are two guns pointed directly at him from less than ten feet away. There's no chance of fighting or escaping and he takes the only sensible option, surrendering quietly.

"Turn around," Esposito pulls out his restraints and quickly cuffs Maddox while Ryan keeps his gun trained on him the whole time.

"Castle are you ok?" Ryan shouts out as his partner marches Maddox back into the barn and pushes him down to sit on the ground against the wall. The Irishman's gaze and his gun never waiver from the target even as Esposito goes to free their friend.

"I'm fine but they've got Beckett. They took her somewhere but I don't know where. Did you see where they took her?"

"No, we just got here. We could hear your voice and figured out that this guy must have been working for Simcocks. There's no sign of anybody else," Esposito explains as he opens the stall and reaches for Castle's handcuffs.

"How did you even find me?"

"We followed Gates," Ryan says.

"Gates found me? How did she know where to look?" the writer is confused. He rubs his freed wrists, the lack of constricting bands is a relief after so many hours.

"No she didn't find you. She's dirty. We found a witness who linked Gates to Somers. When you and Beckett went missing we decided to put a tracking unit on her and then followed her out to here."

Castle looks at Ryan in stunned amazement; Gates was in on this as well? The woman has never liked him but it's still hard to believe that she's also part of the conspiracy. It doesn't make sense; what would've been her motivation for it? As a writer he likes to know the back-story, the chain of events that have led a person to where they are now. He can't really process the thought at the moment though. He has got more pressing priorities right now.

"So if you tracked Gates to here then we can just keep following her signal to find Kate then. If we hurry then we might be able to catch up with them, let's go," Castle says to the detectives.

"We can't Castle," Ryan tells him.

"Yes we can. Just dump Maddox in the stall. We can come back for him later once Beckett is safe." The writer doesn't understand why they're delaying their pursuit. Every minute is putting distance between Kate and him.

"No, it's not that," Ryan explains. "The signal's gone. I don't know if it's because Gates found the unit and destroyed it or if it's because there's no overhead satellites in the right position for the GPS to bounce off. It died about five minutes ago. We were lucky to find you, it was the flashlight and your voice that lead us to here."

Maddox has sat quietly throughout the conversation, maybe he's hoping they might get distracted enough for him to attempt an escape. But now Castle's attention turns back to him.

"You know where she is, and you're going to tell me," the novelist says it like it's a fact.

Maddox sits there stone-faced, not bothering to even look up at the writer.

Castle can feel the anger and fear churning through his guts. This man is the barrier that separates him from Kate. He's sick of barriers, he's sick of walls. Nothing is going to stop him from storming the barricades.

"Tell me," he repeats it, his voice is practically ringing with anger.

Silence.

Castle charges at him; the first blow knocks Maddox sideways onto the ground, before the novelist grabs him by his shirt front and hits him again. There's a loud crack and blood sprays from a nose that is obviously broken.

"Tell me where she is," he demands. "Tell me or I swear to God I'll beat the answer out of you."

"You can't do this," Maddox sneers despite the blood that streams down his face. "If you beat me then it's police brutality and any evidence that you obtain is tainted. I know my rights."

The writer backhands him, smacking the sneer right off his face. "I'm not the police and I don't care about tainted evidence. All I care about is getting her back alive. Let the lawyers deal with the rest of it later." His arm is cocked back ready to deliver another blow when Ryan grabs his fist.

"Castle, you need to cool it," Esposito puts his hand on the writer's shoulder to pull him off the handcuffed man but Rick won't be controlled, he pushes the cop back.

"No. Do you know what this bastard did?" Castle looks from Esposito to Ryan and back again. "He beat her! Her hands were cuffed and he kicked her and he punched her until she couldn't even stand anymore. Simcocks has her now and he could be hurting her even as we speak."

The faces of the detectives harden; their team is like a family and no-one gets away with hurting their family like that. Esposito gives Castle a little nod and then steps back. The message is clear; he won't interfere.

Castle faces Maddox again. "They might be cops but I'm not," he tells the gunman again. "So it doesn't matter if I beat the crap out of you. I'm looking forward to repaying you for every kick, for every punch. Tell me where they've taken her or else you won't be walking out of here."

Whatever it is that Maddox sees on the other man's face it's enough to convince of him of the sincerity of the threat. "Simcocks has a farmhouse about five miles north of here. You can see the iron gates of the property from the road. He's taking her there."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"I don't like this," Somers has been agitated ever since they left the barn. "We can't trust Castle. No matter what he says, you know that he'll try to look for her and if he gets her back then that file will be splashed all over the papers before you can even blink."

"Of course I know that, if I was in his situation I'd be doing the same thing," Simcocks takes a sip of single malt whisky. He relaxes back into the plush leather of the armchair as he contemplates the amber liquid swirling in the glass. Looking at him people would think that he was born into a life of privilege; the bespoke suit, expensive watch, and the finest hand-stitched leather shoes. The reality though is that he was raised by a single, alcoholic mother in a household that was dependent on government assistance for the basics of life. He's been poor and hungry and he's vowed that he'll never be like that again. That ruthlessness is what has got him to this point and if it takes having another person killed to stay here then that's what he'll do.

"Somers, you need to calm down," Gates speaks up from the opposite armchair. She's kept quiet up until now, standing outside the barn during the confrontation and then silent on the trip back to the farmhouse. It wasn't because of a lack of things to say, but rather in order to keep her identity safe from Beckett and Castle.

"It's all very well for you to say calm down," Somers spits out at the woman. "They have no idea that you're involved so if this all goes badly you can stay nice and safe in your little job. Simcocks can disappear overseas with his Swiss bank account to look after him. I'm the one with my ass hanging out in the wind."

"Gates is right. You need to calm down Somers. I've already got a plan to deal with this situation," Simcocks assures him. "Castle won't be able to move against us because I'm going to make sure that he never finds Detective Beckett."

"How are you going to do that?" Somers asks. "Castle knows who you are. It might take a lot of digging into your finances but he'll be able to track down this place sooner or later. Even if you keep her moving around, he's never going to give up."

"He can keep searching all he wants," Simcocks looks up from his glass to meet the agent's gaze. "It won't matter because there won't be anything to find. Beckett is going to disappear for good and there won't be even as much as a fingernail left behind for him to retrieve."

"What about Castle's demand for proof of life? If he thinks that we've killed her then he'll release that file," Gates sounds curious rather than horrified by the thought of the cold-blooded murder of her subordinate.

"Really Gates, I would have thought that part is obvious. Technology is a wonderful thing; it's surprisingly easy to deceive people into seeing what they expect to see. We don't need to keep Beckett alive for long. All we need is just a few photos of her holding up a newspaper. Once she's dead then we'll just cycle through the pictures but _Photoshop_ the image of the newspaper to the latest front page so that it looks like it's a new photo," Simcocks explains his simple plan.

"And who are you expecting to do the deed?" Somers looks ill. "I didn't sign up to kill anyone."

The FBI agent never expected things to spiral so far out of control. When he'd gone to Simcocks with the information that Shaw had shown him it was meant to be clean and simple. An exchange of cash for intel, no one was meant to die. He's been receiving kickbacks from Simcocks for a while now but up until this point Somers has never had to get his hands dirty. Everything about this case has gone wrong and now he's ended up being an accomplice to the murder of his ex-partner and it looks like the police detective is next.

Simcocks regards the other man with barely concealed contempt. "You should have thought about that before you came begging for help with your gambling debts. But don't worry Somers; I didn't think that you'd have the stomach for this. It'll be dealt with and you needn't soil your conscience with it."

"Good, I'm going home," the agent walks out of the room. He's ashamed of what he's done but too much of a coward to try to rectify it.

"He's having second thoughts," Gates observes as soon as Somers is out of earshot.

"Yes. Unfortunately Somers is turning into a bit of liability. He's been useful up until now but I think that he's a loose end that will need to be dealt with, and soon," Simcocks says it with a dispassionate voice as if he were discussing something as innocuous as the weather. "Don't worry, dead men don't tell secrets."

* * *

><p>"Can you drive any faster?" Castle asks impatiently. It feels like the journey is taking forever. The farmhouse might be five miles north as the crow flies but on these twisting country roads the distance to travel is a bit further than that.<p>

"Not if you want to get there in one piece," Ryan replies. "We won't be helping Beckett if the car ends up in the ditch."

This far out of the city there's no street lighting; the only illumination is from the lights of the car and the faint shimmer of the quarter moon. The detective drives carefully along the road, there are plenty of potholes that could flip them out of control if they came barreling along at a quicker speed.

Their slow progress is grating on his nerves but the writer bites back a growl of annoyance. He knows that the younger man is right and he consoles himself with the thought that Simcocks and his party would've gone just as slowly along this road.

The headlights of an oncoming vehicle suddenly appear on the horizon as they come around another corner. Ryan automatically flicks his own headlights from high beam to low beams as the other car gets closer. With the handicap of the darkness it's only when they get within twenty wards the other car that Castle recognizes the vehicle and more importantly the driver within it.

"Stop the car," he shouts out which makes Ryan brake violently.

The momentum of the vehicle causes the three men to be jerked forwards and then back as their seatbelts prevent them from going any further. The driver of the other car has already continued on past them; oblivious to the scene behind him.

"What the hell Castle?" Esposito turns in his seat to look at the novelist who is sitting in the back.

"That was Somers, I recognized his car," Castle explains.

"Did you see Beckett as well?" Ryan quizzes him.

Castle shakes his head in frustration. He barely managed to get a glimpse of Somers as the cars crossed; the image was so fleeting. "No but she could have been in the boot of the car. That's how Maddox transported us here."

They all recognize the dilemma that they're facing. Do they continue onto the farmhouse or follow Somers? Or do they do both which would require splitting up?

"We'll get out of the car here," Esposito speaks up. "Castle and I can walk to the house from here, it can't be much further. It'll be easier to sneak in there on foot anyway. Ryan can turn around and follow Somers. See where he goes but don't confront him unless you see Beckett and it looks like she's in danger," he advises his partner. "Do you remember my cousin Tony? You met him at my abuela's BBQ last year. He works in Vice out of the 54th, call him for backup if Somers heads into the city. I'll send his number to your phone and I'll call him to give him a heads up."

"Ok, be careful guys and good luck," Ryan says as the other men get out.

"You too," Castle replies.

Esposito just nods as he trades a look with his partner and then Ryan does a U-turn and the dark sedan is speeding off after the rear lights of Somers' car. The detective bends down to reach for his spare piece from the ankle holster and hands it over to Castle.

"Here, you might need this."

The cop knows that Castle has been Beckett's backup on previous occasions so the writer's had some experience in this type of situation. Esposito would feel better if it was Ryan was covering his back but he trusts Beckett's judgment about Castle's abilities.

Castle checks the safety is on before tucking the gun into the small of his back. "Let's go then."

* * *

><p>The metal of the cuffs is digging into her wrists and her shoulders feel like they're almost dislocating but Beckett ignores the pain. Just a few more inches to go.<p>

_You can do this _she tells herself as she wriggles her arms forward. Her body is screaming for her to stop but with a grunt the detective forces her cuffed hands under her bottom. Suddenly there's relief as the tension is released and her hands are sliding forward up to the bend of her knees. She threads first one leg and then the other through the loop of her arms and her arms are finally in front of her body instead of behind her back.

She rips the blindfold off her eyes but even without the material she can't see a thing. There's no light, not even dim ambient lighting. Her steps are tentative as she finds her way back to the door, her hands stretched out in front of her. Like a blind person with braille she feels up and down the wall until her fingers stop over the raised plastic molding of a light switch.

A bare bulb flickers into life to illuminate the sparse room. It's pretty much as she pictured it; packed dirt floor with no windows and only one exit. It looks like a basement; maybe it was used for storage once upon a time but it's empty now.

She gives the door handle a rattle but it's locked. It would have been too much to expect her escape to be easy but it was worth a try. Her bruised and battered body is going to hate her for what she's about to do but what other choice does she have? Should she just sit there and wait for her captors to come back?

Beckett takes a few steps back and then comes charging at the door; ramming into it shoulder first. It makes an impressive noise and she goes flying back a yard but the door stays steady.

Pain bursts along nerve endings like a sudden explosion, overwhelming her so that the detective falls to her knees. Eyes clenched, she rubs along at her shoulder to try to dissipate the throbbing ache.

"Shit, shit, shit." Beckett doesn't like to swear but if there was ever an occasion that warranted an expletive then this would be it. She's been kidnapped by the man who had her mother killed, she's locked in some dank cellar, her friends have no idea where she is and it hurts so bad that she could cry.

She's still swearing so she doesn't hear the quiet snick of a key turning but she definitely notices when the door open. Beckett looks up in surprise at the person standing on the other side. She has to blink a few times as if to make sure that this isn't some kind of hallucination. This is the last person that the detective expected to see standing in the doorway brandishing a Glock 19 in her right hand.

"Captain Gates? What are you doing here?"


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

"It looks like Maddox was telling the truth. There's no sign of any closed circuit cameras on the perimeter but there's one guard on the gate. He does a circuit around the fence every ten minutes or so. If we time it right then it should be possible to climb over the fence on the south side without the guard seeing," Esposito slips back into the bushes where Castle has been waiting. Being ex-military, it made sense for the cop to do the reconnaissance solo. "There are two cars out the front; one of them belongs to Gates. I couldn't tell how many people are inside but all the rooms on the ground floor are lit up. The house sits about two hundred yards back from the gate and there's plenty of trees to provide cover up until about the last fifty yards. Then it's flat as a pancake, if we get caught on that then it'll be suicide."

"So how do we do it then? How do we get in there and get Beckett out?" Castle asks.

Esposito shakes his head. "I don't know man. We don't really know how many guards Simcocks has in there and we have no idea what part of the building they're holding her in. It might be better to call in backup, get a SWAT team in here. Let them handle it as a hostage situation."

"But we don't know who else is involved in this conspiracy," Castle points out the obstacle that they've had to battle throughout this case. "Montgomery was part of this and now Gates. If we call on the wrong people then they'll bury that mayday and Beckett's dead before you even put the phone down."

"There might be a few rotten apples but the dragon can't have the whole of the NYPD in his back pocket. If we spread this news widely enough then there's no way that they can suppress it. We couldn't go public before because all the information that we had was circumstantial. Now Simcocks has taken a police officer hostage; that's concrete. There's no way that he can talk his way out of that," Esposito argues.

Castle can see the logic in the other man's reasoning but he's still concerned. "So if we sit tight and wait for the SWAT team then what are her chances?"

"Simcocks will want to save his own ass first, in a situation like this he'll probably try to use her to negotiate his way out."

"And when he realizes that they won't just let him walk? What then?"

Esposito doesn't say anything. If the dragon thinks that he's cornered then he might well kill Beckett before they get to him. Simcocks would already be facing the death penalty for his involvement in multiple murders; he may just figure that if he's already going down then he's got nothing to lose by killing the person who brought the whole house of cards tumbling down on him.

"We're out in the middle of nowhere. Call in the hostage team if you want to but it'll take them at least forty-five minutes to get out here. While we're waiting for them can we at least get in a little closer? Maybe there's a way into the house that you didn't see," the writer pleads.

Esposito can understand the other man's desperation; Beckett is like a sister to him so even if this is clutching at straws then he's willing to at least give it a go.

"Ok Castle, let's go. Stay behind me and keep it quiet. We don't go in unless I give the word."

* * *

><p>"Keep the noise down," Gates whispers as she motions for Beckett to hold out her hands. "Simcocks is upstairs and he's got one guard in the building. We need to get you out of here."<p>

"How did you manage to find me sir?" Beckett lowers her voice to match the other woman's volume.

"Internal Affairs knew about Montgomery, we thought that there might have been other current cops involved so I was placed undercover in Homicide to find out. I managed to gain Simcocks' trust and we've been collecting evidence to try and bust him," Gates explains it quickly as she slips the key in to unlock the handcuffs.

"So you knew about Agent Shaw?" Beckett rubs her wrists; it feels so good to be finally free of those damn metal bracelets.

"Shaw is alive, she got a flesh wound but the vest that she was wearing prevented any serious injury. We faked her death and put her into protective custody temporarily until we could link it back to Simcocks. I'll explain the rest of this later. We have to get out now. A team is coming to arrest Simcocks and we don't want to be caught in the middle if a gunfight ensues." Gates hands over her gun to the detective, "here, take this. I'll go first and if it's clear then follow behind me. We'll exit through the kitchen; my car is parked out the front."

They take the stairs quietly; Gates takes point, walking confidently as if she has every right to be there. Beckett follows a few seconds behind, taking care to stay safely in the shadows. They make it all the way to the hallway before they're challenged.

"Gates? I thought you'd already gone," Simcocks is standing the doorway of the library.

The detective pulls back around the corner; her heart is hammering as she holds her breath, waiting for their deception to be uncovered. Her back is flat against the wall and her finger is ready on the trigger.

"I had to come back because I forgot my keys," Gates holds up the item in her left hand. "I must have put them down when I was pouring the scotch."

"Goodnight then," Simcocks stays positioned in the doorway leaving the captain no choice but to walk out on her own.

It takes all of Gates' self control to not look over to where the detective is hiding. Beckett is a good cop; she'll just have to hope that the younger woman can make it out safely on her own. Coolly Gates walks out of the house and into her car, it's only then that she spares a glance back. One of the guards stands by the door; he makes no bones about the fact that he's watching her. With no other option available Gates drives off leaving the detective still trapped inside the house.

* * *

><p>Beckett is crouched behind the door of a closet. She's been hiding this spot of the last ten minutes. She has no idea about the layout of the house and with the amount of activity that's been going on it seems too dangerous to try sneaking out on her own. For now it seems safer to stay hidden but sooner or later her captors will figure out that she's escaped and then the search will be on. It will be at least three of them to her one; those are odds that she doesn't like. So the dilemma is choosing the right time to make a break for it. She's still trying to make a decision when she hears one of the guards as clearly as if he was standing next to her. It startles the cop because there's nobody there; it must be the vents in this old farmhouse playing tricks with the way sound is transmitted.<p>

"Sir, Stewart has radioed up from the gate. He's spotted two people scaling over the wall; it looks like the writer is one of them. It looks like they're unaware that they've been spotted. Stewart is just keeping an eye on them for now. What do you want us to do?"

It doesn't look like Castle is going to honor his side of the bargain but then again Simcocks is planning to kill Beckett so they were both only paying lip service to the deal. The issue for the ex-senator is how to deal with Castle's threat of public exposure. Maybe it's inevitable that his criminal activities will be revealed and he should escape while he can. There are a number of countries that aren't so friendly with America, countries where his wealth would buy him security from being extradited back to face the consequences of his crimes.

"Get Schulz to ready the chopper; I'll met him at the helipad. I want to be gone within ten minutes. You and Stewart can deal with the intruders; make sure that this is the last time Mr. Castle interferes in my business."

This is probably her best chance of apprehending Simcocks, the guards have been pulled away by the distraction that Castle's provided, but she doesn't even contemplate that option. Simcocks might escape and get away with the murders of both Johanna Beckett and Roy Montgomery but it doesn't matter. Her mother and her captain would want her to concentrate on the living.

The threat crystallizes what she's always known but never acknowledge; Rick is what she wants, he's the only thing that's important. She can live without achieving justice for her mother and Montgomery but she can't live without Castle.

Her mouth is dry with fear; Simcocks has just pronounced a death sentence for Castle. She told him not do anything stupid, she told him no heroics. She could face whatever came her way as long as Castle was safe but he's put himself directly in the crosshairs again. The stupid, foolish, crazy idiot loves her and it's going to get him killed. If they make it out of this alive then she might just shoot him herself.

She's never felt this way about someone else before; jittery with fear and so in love that it hurts. How dare he make her feel this way? Yeah, she's definitely going to shoot him but after that she'll probably kiss him and keep on kissing him for the rest of their lives.

Beckett slips out of the closet, ghosting through the house on the tail of the guard. Her heart is pounding in her ears, how is it not audible to everyone else? Fortunately the guard seems oblivious; he doesn't even look behind to notice the extra shadow that he's acquired. He stops in a room that's been set up as a command post to radio the other guard on the gate.

"Where are intruders now?"

The crackle of static and then a different voice answers over the walkie talkie. "They're on the south side at the seven o'clock position about ten yards back from the tree line."

"Ok, send Schulz up to the helipad. The boss wants to be gone ASAP while you and I will deal with the writer and his friend. Simcocks doesn't want any witnesses left alive. I'll circle around from the back of the house and come up on their left flank; you come around on their right side. Give me about ten minutes to get into position and then we'll take them. When you hear the chopper taking off that'll be the signal to go. You take out the guy closest to you and I'll shoot the other guy," the first guard says.

"Roger that."

The cop sidles up to the guard and her gun presses into his back even as he puts the two-way radio down.

"Don't say anything or I'll drop you where you're standing," she whispers. "Keep your hands up where I can see them and walk over to desk."

He complies with her commands and as soon as he's close enough to the table Beckett stuns him with a pistol whip to the back of the head. To her ears it sounds like a huge crash as the unconscious body drops onto the carpeted floor. She counts to five and then ten seconds but there's no loud voices, no signs of an alarm being raised so she's probably gotten away with it.

Beckett pulls the jacket off the guard before getting out the handcuffs that she was wearing herself not that long ago. She secures his hands behind his back and foraging a roll of duct tape from the desk she winds it his mouth. With a grunt she manages to push him under the desk so that he won't be visible to a casual glance.

The guard is about her height but he has a good forty pounds on her. She tucks her hair up under the ball cap that he was wearing and shrugs into the jacket. It's unlikely to fool anyone who gets a close look at her but in the dark it might buy her a few seconds. She takes his gun and the walkie talkie gets turned off and dropped into one of the jacket's pocket as a precaution; if the guard manages to get free then she doesn't want him to warn his colleagues. There's one last glance around the room to make sure that she's covered her tracks as much as she can and then she walks out into the still night.

Time is ticking down; Beckett's got eight minutes left to find the other guard who is hunting her friends and a forest of dark shadows to impede her search. The back of the house isn't as well lit but it's still nerve racking as she strides across the open ground that surrounds the building. She makes a deliberate effort to walk like a man rather than the natural swing of her hips. Whether or not it makes a difference she can't be sure but she makes it to the safety of the trees without being challenged and she sighs as the first hurdle is passed.

It takes her eyes a minute to adjust to the dark, slowly the shadows start to make sense; the outlines of branches and rocks sharpen into focus instead of a being an amorphous mass of grey. Beckett zeros in on the area where she expects the guard to be; she takes it slowly, careful to avoid stepping on fallen sticks or anything else that might give her away.

Crouching down by a tree she scans the area looking for any silhouettes or movement that signals the presence of other people. A tree branch sways in the breeze but it's the only thing that stands out. Beckett creeps forward another ten yards and pauses for another search. Her eyes sweep from left to right and on the first pass there's nothing to see but then a slight movement draws her gaze back and that's when she spots him.

It's Castle, she's not close enough to make out any features but there's something about the way he holds his shoulders that's achingly familiar. Once she's seen the writer then it makes it easier to spot the other figure that's next to him. It must be Esposito because he's a bit stockier than Ryan. Both of the men seem to be concentrating on the house and ignorant of her position.

The pair are too far away for her to call out to them and that would just give her position away to any unfriendly ears that might be in the vicinity. Instead Beckett continues her search for the other guard; by her calculations he's got to be close by.

Suddenly the harsh staccato whirl of spinning metal blades pierces the silence and it's quickly followed by the crack of a gun being fired. The flash from the gun muzzle is brief but it's long enough for her to finally spot the other guard. Beckett doesn't hesitate; she fires off two shots in quick succession. Both bullets hit the centre of the target exactly as if she was the firing range and the guard drops to the ground; even from this distance the detective knows that gunman is dead.

"Castle? Esposito? Are you ok?" Beckett calls out. She has to shout to be heard over the sound of the helicopter taking off.

"Yeah I'm ok," the other detective replies but there's only silence from the writer.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

It's like some inverted image of that day in the cemetery. The roaring in her ears is the same; the way her vision narrows in until Rick is the only thing that she sees is also familiar. Someone chokes out a declaration of love while the recipient lies bleeding out on the cold ground. This time though the roles are reversed.

"Don't you dare do this to me Castle!" Beckett threatens him. "You forced your way into my life, you demolished my walls, and you made me love you! I didn't ask for any of that and if you die on me now I swear I'll …" Her voice breaks, "I'll kick your ass from here to eternity. Please Rick. Please just hang on."

He can hear every word and the love that rings through even the threat of bodily harm. He'd like to tell her not to worry, that he loves her as well and he's still going to be around for years to fill her coffee cup and fiddle with the radio in her car (even though she hates that). He'd like to be able to say all that but he can't because he's literally breathless. Despite the fact that his chest is heaving, no air is reaching his lungs; Castle is drowning on dry land.

Panic sets in as oxygen deprivation affects his brain; the writer starts to thrash about, pushing away the hands that are trying to help him.

"Esposito, you need to hold him still. He's going to hurt himself," Beckett's hands are busy ripping away at Castle's clothing. She has to find the wound in order to apply pressure; it's important to control the bleeding. Thank god for the mandatory first aid courses that the department makes all officers complete. She's never going to complain about having to attend the biennial refresher courses ever again.

Esposito grabs the writer's shoulders and pins him to the ground. "Castle you have to stop moving. We're trying to help you bro."

It's so hard to undo the buttons on the shirt when her fingers are slippery from his blood. It's warm and sticky and the coppery smell makes her want to heave because she's already so frightened that he's slipping away from her. Beckett snarls in frustration and just rips the damn shirt front to get to her target.

High on his chest and off to the right is the jagged edges of the exit wound. The bleeding only appears to be a slow ooze but the frothy pink bubbles give away the deadly diagnosis; the bullet's punctured his lung and it's collapsed like some kind of deflated balloon.

"Have you got anything plastic to use as an occlusive dressing?" Beckett asks the other detective.

"How about this?" Esposito has to let go of the writer briefly in order to grab a couple of the plastic evidence bags that he keeps in his jacket. Castle bucks at that precise moment, almost throwing the other man off but the cop manages to force him back down again.

"Perfect." She still has the duct tape that she used to silence the guard inside and she uses it now to seal down the dressing on three sides, leaving one side free as a release valve. It will allow the extra air to escape on expiration and prevent it entering the thorax on inspiration. "Turn him over; I need to get to the entrance wound now."

"I can't," Esposito grunts as he grapples with the thrashing man. "He's moving around too much."

Castle can feel the burn in his muscles as the lack of oxygen causes lactic buildup. Run, move, and escape his body is screaming at him; just do anything to get some air. His primitive hind brain instincts have taken over and he's fighting like some kind of cornered beast.

"Castle."

Warm hands cup his face as that voice cuts through the panic. He knows that voice; he trusts that voice.

"Rick you need to keep still. You need to let me help you. Let me do this for you," she implores.

It's Kate, his Kate. He trusts her with his life and forces himself into calmness even though panic is still nipping at his heels.

With Castle's co-operation it only takes her another few seconds to find the entrance point and apply the dressing to the sucking chest wound.

The first gasp of air that he manages to get in feels like the sweetest thing; it's like a drowning man being thrown a lifeline. Castle can't remember ever savoring each breath like this before. It's still not exactly easy to breathe but at least it now it only feels like there's a fifty pound weight on his chest instead of one hundred pounds. The wheezing that accompanies his every breath sounds like a death rattle but it signals that the vital oxygen exchange is occurring.

"Slow, deep breaths Castle. If you panic and start hyperventilating then it'll make it worse. Just keep it slow until we can get you to a hospital," Beckett cradles his head in her hands; she can feel the shakes that are rocking her body. The immediate danger has passed and she's feeling lightheaded in the aftermath of that massive adrenaline rush. What she'd like to do is to crawl into bed with him and crash out for the next week or so. But she can't fall apart just yet; she won't be able to relax until the doctors have worked on him and can tell her that he's going to be fine.

"We need an ambulance," Beckett tells the other cop.

"I'm on it," Esposito has his phone out and is already connected to the emergency switchboard with the details. "The good news is that EMTs have already been dispatched; they're right behind the SWAT team and are about thirty minutes out. The bad news is they won't enter the property until SWAT has cleared it and says it's safe," he tells her as soon as he hangs up.

"That's too long," she frets. "Did you tell them that we have a GSW to the chest? Do they know that the only two perps left here have been neutralized? There aren't any other guards left. If there was then they would have come running when they heard the gunshots."

"Yeah but you know their rules," Esposito shrugs helplessly. It's standard operating procedure for the ambulance crews to await formal clearance from the police before entering a potentially dangerous situation. If the rescuers get hurt then they won't be able to help anyone else. It's common sense but frustrating at the same time.

"Fine, if they won't come to us then we need to get to them," Beckett reasons. "Where's your car?"

Esposito shakes his head, "Ryan has it and he's half way back to the city by now following Somers. Unless there's another car parked up around the back of the house then the only way we'll get Castle out of here is to carry him."

There's no way that they'd be able to manage that; Castle is a solid six foot one and it would all be dead weight that they'd have to carry. The writer couldn't manage more than a few steps and god only knows what all that movement would do to his injury; it could easily make his breathing worse.

They're still pondering the dilemma when a car pulls up the driveway and a familiar figure gets out only twenty yards from them. Esposito pulls out his weapon and trains it on the woman who immediately backs up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing Detective Esposito," Gates demands.

"I'm arresting a corrupt cop," he snaps back. "Put your hands up where I can see them."

"Esposito, have you gone crazy?" Beckett puts her hand on his arm.

The Latino cop looks between the captain and his colleague but doesn't drop his gun. "Beckett, you don't understand. Gates has been in on this the whole time. She was working with Somers; she was there the night that Shaw was killed. Gates is working for the dragon. Ask her why she's here, let her explain why she came back."

"No Javier, it's ok; she's on our side. Gates has been working undercover to expose Simcocks. She's the one who freed me from the cellar; she could have shot me then but she didn't," Beckett explains.

"I came back to see if I could help. I was sitting just out of sight of the gate, waiting for backup to come," Gates holds her hands up in a peaceful gesture to placate the agitated man. "I heard the helicopter take off and then the gunshots. I thought that Beckett was on her own so I doubled back to help her."

The male detective does a double take as he absorbs the new information. There have been so many twists and turns in this case that it's hard to know what the truth is. The only people that he knows that he can definitely trust are Ryan, Beckett and Castle.

"Are you sure about this?" he questions his friend. "Maybe Gates is doing a double bluff." 

"I'm sure that she let me out, she even gave me this gun. Besides that, she has a car. At this point in time I'd take a ride with the devil himself if it means that we can get Castle out of here."

Grudgingly he lowers his service piece. "Sorry Captain. I thought that you were a dirty cop. I had to make sure," Esposito explains.

Gates nods her acceptance of the apology. "It's hard to know who the good guys are in this case. There are a few local politicians, judges and cops who'll be going down after this all comes out. For now let's concentrate on seeing to our wounded."

In the end it's Gates and Esposito who do the grunt work in order to get Castle into the car. Beckett's ribs and shoulder are too sore from the beating that she took for her to contribute much help. Even though they try to lift the writer as gently as possible the pain is excruciating and he almost passes out.

Kate insists on sitting on the back seat with the injured man. Castle is on his back, his head on her lap as she uses her good right arm to hold him still, her left hand cards through the soft tumble of his hair. It's painful to listen to but she counts every wheezing breath that he takes. As long he just keeps breathing he'll make it. Beckett finds herself timing her breathing to match his, as if she could somehow supplement each painful ventilation with her own efforts.

The green sedan lurches to a start, drawing a pained moan from the writer. Beckett winces in sympathy, hearing his groans is breaking her heart. Every bump jostles him; it's agony as torn tissue protests against this further outrage.

"It's ok Castle," Beckett tries to reassure him. "We're getting you to people who can help. Just concentrate on your breathing. It won't be much longer and then the doctors will patch you up even better than new. You're going to be fine." The detective keeps up a stream of reassurances even though the writer might not be with it enough to understand what she's saying. It's almost as if she's trying to convince herself as much as she's trying to reassure him. If she says it then it's got to be true.

"Think of all the things you'll get to do once you're better," she bribes him. "I'll let you sit in my chair and go through my desk. A one time only, access-all-areas pass. You'll have to use it wisely."

"More," he can only manage to whisper the single word.

"What is it Castle?" Beckett leans in closer; he spoke so softly that she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"More."

"You want more than that? I can't believe that you're trying to bargain with me at a time like this," she mock glares at him but the effect is ruined by the fact that she's caressing his face at the same time. "Ok. How about a game at Yankee Stadium? Tickets, hot dogs and one of those obnoxious foam fingers that you can wave in everyone's face; it'll be my treat."

"Date," he tries to smile despite the pain; his hand reaches up to squeeze her fingers.

Kate is almost bent over so that she can whisper in his ear. "Yes it's a date so you'd better not stand me up. And I won't accept dying as an excuse."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Blurry splotches of color coalesce into more familiar forms as his vision comes into focus.

"Dad you're awake!" Alexis' hand tightens on his, squeezing hard in her relief.

"Alexis? Did I fall asleep on the couch again?" Castle tries to sit up but a palm on his chest halts his progress.

"Don't try to move Richard. You're in the hospital and there are about a hundred different leads and lines attached to you," Martha warns him.

"Could I get some water please?" his mouth feels like the Sahara as he tries to get the words out. It feels like there's cotton wool in his mouth as well as his brain.

Alexis looks over at the M.E. who's standing at the foot of the bed.

"Go ahead honey," Lanie nods her approval. "You should be ok to drink something but just take it slowly Castle. The anesthetic drugs are still wearing off and they can sometimes make you feel a bit nauseated."

"It's so nice of you to join us Sleeping Beauty. We were getting a bit bored listening to your snoring," Esposito says in a deadpan voice; it's typical cop humor to downplay the worry that had all of them keeping a bedside vigil in the writer's hospital room.

"You got shot Castle. Fortunately the doctors reckon that there won't be any permanent damage," it's Ryan's familiar voice; he's standing slightly behind his partner.

"That would explain why I feel like I got tackled by the entire defensive line-up of the New York Giants." Castle takes a small sip from the drinking straw that his daughter is holding in front of his face. "Thanks pumpkin." He slumps back in the bed, already tired from even that slight effort.

"Where's Beckett?" he asks about the glaring omission from the room.

The older adults all exchange concerned glances while the teenager studies the lattice pattern of the hospital blanket as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. The lack of an immediate reply has the writer instantly anxious. He doesn't remember Kate having any life-threatening injuries from her beating but maybe there was internal bleeding.

"Is she ok? Someone had better tell me right now," Castle demands.

"Don't get yourself all worked-up Castle. The emergency doctors checked her over; she's got some nasty bruises and sprains but nothing broken. They wanted to keep her in overnight for observation but she insisted on signing herself out against medical advice," Lanie assures him. "Kate's back at the precinct giving her statement to the feds and being debriefed by Gates. She wants to be there when they catch him"

Castle can't help the sting of hurt that lances him; everyone else has hung around to make sure that he's ok but Beckett's already ditched him. "Yes, of course. It makes sense to keep on his trail while it's still hot," the writer tries to go through the sound reasons for why the woman he loves isn't here. "I remember the helicopter taking off, presumably he must have been on board. Do we have any idea where it was taking him?"

"Air Traffic Control tracked his chopper to a private airstrip in the Hamptons but he'd already left by the time the local cops got there. But don't worry man, we'll get him," Esposito says.

"His name and face have been all over the television. It's not everyday that an ex-Secretary of State is the subject of federal manhunt, the news stations have been all over it like a rash," Ryan adds. "With this much coverage Simcocks will be lucky to hide out more than a day before he's caught."

"Good, he deserves it for all the lives that he's ruined." Castle can feel his eyes starting to close and forces them open again. "What time is it now?"

Martha consults her watch briefly. "It's almost nine."

"Nine?" he was so sure that it had been later than that when they got out to the farm-house.

"Nine a.m. You've been out of it for the last six hours; already out cold when we got you into the ambulance and then the doctors had you in the operating theatre for another couple of hours," Esposito clarifies.

If he's been asleep for all that time, why does he still feel so tired now? He can feel his eyelids drifting down again, the inevitable tide of sleep pulling him under. He'd like to stay awake, there's about a million more questions that he'd like answered but his body isn't co-operating.

"Sorry," Castle mumbles. It seems rude to be drifting off when his family and friends are all gathered around.

"It's ok Richard. You should rest now, it'll help your body to heal," his mother nods her understanding as the others quietly make their way to the door. "Alexis and I will be back in a few hours with bag of stuff for you. Is there anything in particular that you want us to bring?"

Castle is fading fast and he's asleep before he even hears the question.

* * *

><p>When he next opens his eyes there's a familiar person sitting in the chair next to his bed.<p>

"Didn't anyone tell you that it's creepy to stare at someone like that?"

Her lips quirk up in a lop-sided smile. "Good, now you know how I feel when you watch me do paperwork. We got Simcocks; I thought that you'd want to know."

"Good. I'm glad." And he truly is; hopefully this will finally give closure to all the victims' loved ones, not just Kate.

"How are you doing Castle?"

He smiles. "I've got to say that they have some _goooood _drugs in here. It's almost worth being shot to get my hands on them."

Beckett's smile falters at the reminder how close she came to losing him. He'd looked so peaceful sleeping, as if he was at home in his Californian king, so much so that she could almost forget the reality of the situation.

"Hey Kate, there's no need to look so sad; we won. We both survived and Simcocks is going to get what he deserves. Your mom would be so proud of you."

The detective nods as she reaches out to take his hand on the uninjured side. "You're right. We did win and that makes it a good day. My mom had this really cheesy phrase that she used to say to me. _Don't look so glum Katie-bug, you need to turn that frown upside down. _Apparently I was quite morose as a teenager."

He squeezes her hand in understanding; it always feels so special when Kate allows him these little insights into her mother. Castle knows what a privilege it is that she can share even these fragments with him. Now that she's achieved justice for her mother, maybe she can finally move on with her life and hopefully that life will include him.

"I missed you earlier," he says.

"I'm sorry," she apologizes. "I wanted to be here."

"It wasn't an accusation and I understand. The boys said that you were being debriefed by the feds."

Beckett nods but doesn't volunteer anything further. The debriefing was just an excuse, convenient but not the whole truth.

* * *

><p><em>It was the phone call that she'd hoped to never make. Five a.m. and Beckett's calling his mother from the waiting room of New York Presbyterian Hospital.<em>

"_Kate darling it's a little bit early for a social call," Martha's voice is sleep-slurred._

"_Castle's been shot. The doctors don't think that it's fatal but they're taking him into surgery now. You and Alexis need to come to hospital now."_

_It had only taken his family fifteen minutes to get there and Alexis had burst into the waiting room in an agitated state._

"_What happened? Where's my dad?" she'd confronted the three detectives who were perched on the uncomfortable plastic chairs generic to all hospitals._

_Beckett had stood up, grasping the upset young woman by the shoulders. "We were abducted while doing surveillance on a case. One of the bad guys shot Castle during my escape. He's in surgery at the moment but the doctors are confident that he's going to be ok."_

_Alexis had pushed the older woman's hands away. "This is your fault. If Dad hadn't been following you around like some kind of love-sick puppy then none of this would have happened. He's a writer, he's not meant to have people shooting at him. Why couldn't you just leave him alone?"_

"_Alexis! That is not fair," Martha warned her._

_But Beckett had already stepped back. The cop had had those same self-recriminations well before his daughter had voiced them. She can't deny that the teenager has a sound basis for her anger._

"_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I should go. There's a debriefing at the station, I have to go." Beckett had apologized even as she ran out of the room._

* * *

><p>"I must admit I was worried though," Castle confesses, his voice pulling her back into the present. "I wasn't sure that I'd see you again."<p>

"What do you mean? I was always going to check to make sure that you were ok," Beckett protests.

"Well our deal was only for this case; you'd let me help with this one and then that was it," he reminds her. "And now that it's over … well I thought I might be getting my marching papers."

"That's true and I have been thinking about it a lot."

He holds his breath, fearful of what she's about to say.

"You did get hurt Rick. We were lucky that it wasn't more serious. When you were gasping for breath I felt so damn helpless, and I hated it. I don't want to be in that situation again where you've been hurt and it's my fault."

"It wasn't your fault Kate. The responsibility lies with Simcocks."

She shakes her head. "Ok maybe fault is the wrong word but the reality is that you were hurt because my job. I don't think that you're likely to be facing a 9 mm in one of your fancy parties."

"I don't know about that; some of those celebutantes can be vicious," he jokes. "Come on Kate. What about all the things that you said? You know that I love you and you said that you loved me too. Doesn't that mean something as well?"

"I said I loved you and I meant it. I'm not cutting you out of my life completely; it didn't work all that well the last time I tried it. It just made both of us miserable. I want to give it a try, to give _us_ a chance, I really do. But you have to promise to do something for me. I want you to consider giving up shadowing me at work."

"But …"

"No Castle," she interrupts him. "I'm not forcing you to give it up but I want you to just think about it. I don't want your gut reaction; forget about the buzz of working a new case or building theory. If it's just about the thrill or so that we can hang out together then that's not a reason to come back to the 12th. Most people who are dating don't work together as well. We can still have this," she points between the two of them, "without the work stuff."

"Ok, I'll think about it," he promises.

"Good." Beckett leans in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

It's the lightest of touches but his lips tingle from just that innocent gesture. The writer would love to pull her in for something a little more intense but he knows that it would overconfidence on his part. At the moment he's weak enough that he'd have a hard time taking on a kitten.

"Hmmmm. That's even better than the drugs," he hums his approval. "You could keep doing that and I wouldn't need to take any pain relief. I wonder how the doctors could prescribe that. A kiss from Kate Beckett every thirty minutes or take as required."

"It's clear that you're still dopey from the drugs if you think that kissing is a substitute for pain meds," she rolls her eyes although she does lean in to kiss him again.

"And yet you still indulge me. I think you must like me Detective Beckett." There's a big grin on his face; it took her a long time to admit it but they both know that she's soft on him.

Beckett's sarcastic comeback is interrupted by the buzzing of her phone with a message alert. She glances down at the screen and the humor is wiped. It's a warning from Martha that she and Alexis are on their way into the hospital. Castle doesn't need to know about the friction between her and his daughter; especially not while he's recovering. The detective stands to make her farewells.

"I'd better head home. Goodnight Rick."

"Until tomorrow Kate."


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

"Are you ready to go Dad?"

Alexis has the small bag with his clothes and toiletries as Castle sits on the wheelchair. He's perfectly capable of walking out but hospital policy mandates that he be wheeled out by an orderly.

The only visible reminder of his injuries is the cotton high-arm sling that cushions his right arm. The bullet that punctured his lung also managed to fracture his collar bone on the way through. The lung didn't take long to re-inflate and although the fracture wasn't life-threatening, it's lingering after effects are more painful than the more serious lung injury.

"I can't wait to get home. Not that you guys haven't been wonderful but I'm looking forward to real food and clothes that fit. Why is it that hospital gowns always leave you exposing your backside to the world? It's like a universal truth, no matter what hospital you're in, the gowns are all the same. You can tell me Jon, it's just so that you guys can have a bit of chuckle isn't it?" Castle asks the orderly who is pushing his chair.

"I could tell you Mr. Castle, but then I'd have to kill you," the other man jokes. All the staff on the ward have come to like the outgoing writer during his time with them, especially after he arranged for a midnight pizza delivery for all the workers. He stops at the curb where a town car is waiting and locks the brakes on the chair.

Castle stands and thanks the orderly again before Jon turns and pushes the wheelchair back into the concrete halls of the hospital.

The driver is one of their regulars and Leon opens the door for them as Alexis hands off the hold-all to him with a smile as she gets into the car. There's only light weekend morning traffic and it's not long before the car is stopping in front of his Manhattan loft.

Their doorman gives them a jaunty tip of his hat at the front door. "Welcome home Mr. Castle."

"Thanks Nick. It's good to be home." It truly was good to be home, the thought of being able to sleep in his own bed again was wonderful. There was nothing like having your own home comforts around you.

A large red banner was strung across the entrance way of the apartment, "Welcome Home!" it proclaimed in colorful swirls. Under it a big vase held a floral arrangement of cheerful sunflowers in full bloom and there was a cake iced with a cartoon character sporting crutches, a big head bandage and a full leg cast.

"Wow, thank you pumpkin."

"Gram did all that, she wanted to be here but her school has its big end of semester production on tomorrow and she has to see to the last minute rehearsals. But don't worry, I've got your first day home all planned. I thought we could do a movie and ice cream marathon. I got your favorite ice cream flavors – peanut butter cup, cookies and cream, and chocolate fudge brownie. How does five hours of _The Thin Man _sound?"

"It sounds perfect."

"Good. You can just put your feet up and I'll get us that ice cream."

"Wait Alexis, can we talk first?"

"Sure Dad. What is it? Are you in pain? I've got your prescription right here, let me just get you a glass of water."

He snags her hand before she can walk off and pulls her down to sit next to him on the couch.

"No it's not that. I wanted a chance to talk to you by yourself but we never really got the chance when I was in hospital; there was always someone else around."

She looks at him with concerned eyes. "You're scaring me now Dad."

"It's not something bad, in fact I think it's good and I hope that you'll think so too. Kate and I are going to try for a real relationship so you'll be seeing a lot more of her."

"Oh."

The less than enthusiastic response confirms something that he's suspected for the last few days.

"Alexis, what's going on between you and Kate?"

"What did she say?" the teenager asks suspiciously.

"Beckett hasn't said anything but I'm a writer, I can't help but notice things. Like how you guys were never at the hospital visiting me at the same time. It was almost like a schedule, Kate would leave five minutes before you showed up or she'd come just after you'd left. It was like she was avoiding you."

"Maybe it's because she's my alter ego. Like Batman and Bruce Wayne, we can never be in the same place at the same time." Alexis tries to shrug it off with a joke. It's his first day home and she really doesn't want to spoil it with an argument.

"That idea is kind of disturbing. My daughter and my girlfriend are actually the same person?" he shudders at the thought. "Come on Alexis; tell me what's really going on."

"When I heard that you'd been shot I was so scared that we were going to lose you. It was the worst moment of my life." She picks her words carefully, hoping that she can make him see sense. "I was scared and angry and I yelled at her, I told her it was her fault that you were hurt."

"Oh Alexis," he's shaking his head sorrowfully.

"Maybe I shouldn't have yelled but there's a grain of truth in it. I don't think that Detective Beckett is a bad person but she's no good for you. You go chasing after her with no care for your own safety. Dad, you need to stay away from her. Say the situation was reversed and I had a friend who was pulling me into the drug scene then you'd be saying the same thing to me."

"Beckett isn't my drug dealer and if anything, she puts my safety ahead of her own. You know that she tried to kick me off this case, I was the one who forced my way back in. Kate's the first person to order me to stay back if the situation is dangerous. I admit that there are still some risks but they're necessary ones. We can't just all sit back and let people get away with doing bad things. The law only works if there are people willing to stand up for it."

"But why does that have to be you?" Alexis breaks down in tears and he gathers her into a one-armed hug with his good arm. "Why can't you leave that job to someone else? Let someone else take that risk."

"Alexis, listen to yourself. Do you know how selfish that sounds? That's not like you."

He can feel her nodding even as her face is buried in his shirt, little sobs breaking up the cadence of her words.

"I know," she admits to the guilt, "but I'm selfish when it comes to you. There's only the three of us in this family and I don't think I could bear it if we lost you. Gram is great but you're the one constant in my life."

"I'm always going to be here for you. But I can do that and still help out at the station." He kisses her hair gently. "Do you remember what I was like before I started working with Beckett? The parties, dating women who were more interested in my money and fame than in me, coasting along that superficial lifestyle? I was trying to be a good father for you but I wasn't setting a very good example."

"Dad, that's …"

"Absolutely true. I'm a better man now because Kate expects it. She doesn't let me take the easy way out, she sets a high standard for herself and everyone else around her and there's no leniency because of my money or my status. That's part of what I love about her. Working with the police may be dangerous at times but I'd like to think that you're proud of me. Simcocks ruined a lot of lives and I played my part in bringing him to justice. He would have gotten away with it otherwise."

"I am proud of you Dad." Alexis pauses to wipe away at the tear tracking down her face. "I guess I owe Detective Beckett an apology. Do you think she'll forgive me?"

"I've done worse things than that and she's always forgiven me," he says with an encouraging smile.

"Do you think she might like to join us for the movie marathon?" Alexis asks hesitantly.

"I'm sure she would. I'll call her now."

* * *

><p>Beckett isn't sure what to expect when she turned up at loft. The situation between her and Alexis was volatile and she didn't want it to upset Castle but he'd been adamant that the invitation was Alexis' idea. Still the detective hesitated before knocking on the door.<p>

It's Castle beaming face that greets her on the other side. He looks good for a man who was shot in the chest only five days ago. The only outward sign of his ordeal is the arm sling for his clavicle fracture.

The same can't be said for the cop, her bruises have reached that horrible yellowy-purple phase. She's had some comments from well-intentioned strangers that she doesn't need to put up with abuse from her partner and that there are shelters that would help her out. The first few times she had to laugh at the thought of Castle actually hitting her, the writer would never raise a hand to her and if he ever did then he would be the one who was more likely to cop a hiding. But the comments and stares keep coming so she's taken to lying and saying she was in a car crash.

Her face must look like a mess but that doesn't stop him from leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

"Hey Gorgeous."

"Don't even try it Castle. Just because we're dating doesn't mean you can start using nick names," Beckett rolls her eyes at that obvious lie although the effect is ruined by the slight smile that quirks her lips.

The unrepentant smile on his face says that he's definitely going to trying out other pet names for her despite her protests. His left hand grabs her arm to pull her into the living room where the huge HD screen displays the opening credits for the _Thin man_.

"Alexis is in the kitchen dishing out the ice cream, you're just in time to choose your flavor and your choice of toppings."

She puts her hand on his chest to stop him as he turns to head for the kitchen.

"Maybe Alexis and I could have a private moment? I think that it'll be easier if it was just the two of us."

"Are you sure?" he asks with a slightly worried look.

"Yeah," she assures him. "Girl talk is much easier without any guys around."

"Ok, but if it goes badly then just yell and I'll come in to play referee."

Beckett leaves him sitting on the couch as she goes in search of his daughter. The teenager is standing at the kitchen counter with three tubs of ice cream and an assortment of toppings in front of her. There are two bowls of ice cream garnished with various things that are ready to go.

"I'll take a scoop of chocolate with whipped cream and some fudge topping," Kate says to get the girl's attention.

"Oh Detective Beckett," Alexis looks up from her creations.

"Please call me Kate."

The redhead takes a deep breath and then the words come stumbling out. "Kate, what I said to you before at the hospital. It wasn't fair and I shouldn't have blamed you for Dad's injury."

"It's ok Alexis."

"No it's not ok, what I did was wrong. Please let me apologize, I think I'd feel better if I could just say it."

The older woman nods in understanding.

Alexis gives her a faint smile and takes another deep breath before she starts again. "I'm sorry Kate. I was scared and I lashed out at you because you were a convenient target. I hope that you can forgive me."

Beckett smiles as she graciously accepts the apology. "Hey, we've all done stupid things when we're scared and I'm as guilty of it as the next person. I forgive you and I don't want you to give it another thought. We won't mention it ever again." She holds out her hand and the girl takes it to shake on the agreement. "Good. Let me help you out with that ice cream so that we can go back out there before your Dad thinks that we've killed each other."

* * *

><p>After the movie marathon they'd had Chinese takeaways for dinner and then played a spirited game of <em>Scattergories<em>. Martha had walked in half-way through to find a fierce debate raging as to the legitimacy of the Yellow Wiggle as a celebrity starting with the letter Y. She'd declared it valid and awarded a point to Castle but it wasn't enough to stop Kate from trouncing him with Alexis a close second.

"I can't believe that you'd pick on an injured man like this," he says with an exaggerated pout on his face.

"You don't play _Scattergories_ with your collar bone so stop whining Rick," Kate has this triumphant smirk on her face. "Unless of course you think that it somehow caused some brain injury at the same time, in which case I would have given you a five point handicap."

"You're an ungracious winner."

"Dad, you're hardly one to talk when it comes to being a bad winner. Do you remember that time you did a five minute victory dance around the apartment as you sang _We are the Champions _because you beat me at laser tag?"

"So what?" he can't see where Alexis is going with this.

"I was eight years old at the time and I could barely hold the gun up with both hands."

Kate and Martha explode into laughter as Castle ducks his head slightly in shame.

"Fine, gloat away then. I'll just go quietly to my room," he says like some kind of martyr.

"Poor baby," Beckett mocks him with false sympathy. "Do you want me to put a band aid on your wounded pride? Would that make you feel better?"

"No, but what would make me feel better is if you stayed the night."

She blushes faintly because the man has no shame, how he can even say that kind of thing in front of his mother and daughter?

He finds it charming that she's embarrassed by his suggestion. With their battered bodies, neither of them is up to doing anything more than just sleeping. "I just meant that I'll sleep better if you're here as well. I promise no funny business or at least not tonight," he adds with a grin which makes her blush ever more.

"Eww Dad." Alexis wrinkles her nose in pretended disgust. "I think you just scarred me for life. I think I'm off to bed before this gets any worse. Good night Kate and see you in the morning."

"I'll say good night as well. I've got a big day tomorrow and the spotlight is not very forgiving when one hasn't had enough sleep. And by the way Kate, Richard makes delicious waffles so you really should try them for breakfast," Martha smiles at the detective as the last member of the Castle family gives their stamp of approval to the fledgling romance.

"Good night Martha, good night Alexis," Beckett rounds on her grinning boyfriend as soon as his family is out of earshot. "Are you deliberately trying to embarrass me in front of your family?"

He's not deterred at all by her glare; it's easy to tell when she's really angry as opposed to just putting on a front.

"You're so cute when you scowl like that. Oh come on Kate. It's not like they don't know that we sleep together."

"Technically we've never actually _slept_ together; I've never spent the night," she points out.

"Well in that case I think it's time that you did. Sharing a bed for nothing more than sleep and getting to wake up with you in the morning, that's what I want."

"Fine, but I'm only doing this because you're injured and this is your first night out of hospital. Someone needs to keep an eye on you." It's hard to maintain her grumpy demeanor but she's trying despite the way her heart wants to melt at his goofy smile.

"Thank you." His lips are so soft as they brush against hers and that's all it takes for her to dissolve into a syrupy mess. Her touch is just as gentle as his when she returns the kiss.

"Let's go to sleep then Rick."


	24. Chapter 24

Epilogue

She got tickets for the general stands; it's not in the VIP area and probably not what he's used to but she likes it. There's something electric about being part of the crowd as they cheer on a home run or the collective groan as the batter gets his third strike. The camaraderie is infectious and for a period the usually disinterested New Yorkers are united behind a common goal.

They weave their way past a young family with two kids and a group of guys in their twenties in order to get to their seats overlooking first base. Beckett is dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt; it's casual but the woman who fills out the material is spectacular enough to catch lingering glances from several of the male fans. Kate seems unaware of the attention that she's attracted but Castle makes a point of glaring at a few of the men who are more blatant in their ogling of his girlfriend's butt.

"Come on Romeo," she reaches back to grab his hand without looking. "Just ignore them." So maybe Kate isn't completely oblivious. She could stop and give those idiots a lecture on respecting women or flash her badge and scare the daylights out of them but today is her day off and she'd like to spend it with her boyfriend without any hassles.

This is their first official date; she kept her promise and is taking him to see the Yankees play the Orioles. Movie nights and meals at home with his family don't count. It's been a month since the shooting but this is the first chance that they've had to actually go out. Beckett's vain enough that she wanted to wait until her bruises had faded. She might be a homicide detective but there's also that part of her that's purely feminine and she wants to look good when they step out together. There's no way she's going to risk having the press taking a photo of her with a black eye and looking like she's gone five rounds with Mike Tyson.

They settle into the hard, molded plastic seats and Beckett hands him a score card. Rick looks at it in bemusement as he's not quite sure what to do with it.

"Don't tell me that you've never filled in one of these? Have you even been to game before?" she asks him with a cocked eyebrow.

"Mother was always more interested in the arts rather than sports so I didn't watch a lot of baseball growing up. Since then I've been to a few games but it's always been a PR event set up by my agent or Black Pawn Publishing. There's a lot of schmoozing, drinking champagne and eating fancy hors d'oeuvres but not a lot of baseball watching."

"You are in for an education today then. My parents and I used to go a lot when I was a kid; back then it was the original Yankee Stadium. We'd fill out the score card together and I still have them in a box at home. Mom would pretend that she was only tagging along so that we could all spend time together as a family but by the end of the game she'd have a sore throat from all the cheering that she'd do. I can still pull out an individual card and remember what it was like to be there on that day." There's a glow in her eyes as she remembers the good times with her mother. The closure of the case has allowed her to look back and appreciate those memories without the taint of justice denied.

"Having a family tradition like that sounds nice." His fingers reach out to tangle with hers and he gives them a gentle squeeze.

"Yeah, it was."

"Maybe it can be a family tradition for you again." The words '_maybe it can be our family tradition' _go unsaid_. _Castle doesn't say anything more because he's already pressing his luck. He knows that Beckett has relationship issues and they've only been together officially for a month so it's far too early to be talking about forever.

She's trying hard to dive into this relationship, to not hold back like she's done in the past. There are still rocky patches. There are times when she's goes quiet and he knows that Kate's retreated a little but she always comes back to him and that's how he knows that they're going to make it. It's not like he's bought her a ring (ok, maybe he has browsed at Tiffany's online catalogue) but as far as Rick's concerned he's going to be her one and done.

He was expecting her to ignore the statement or even take a step back behind the last crumbling ruins of her wall but she surprises him.

"Well if it's going to be our tradition then you need to pay attention and learn how to fill out one of these cards properly." It's her oblique way of saying that she might not object to joining the Castle family one day.

The next three hours are a lesson in patience for both of them. There are a lot of rules and abbreviations to be explained and Castle has the attention span of a five year old. Sometimes she swears that he's come up with his own idiosyncratic method of scoring because the notation bears no resemblance to anything that she's told him. The battered score card is a complete mess; there are doodles all over it. In some places Castle has written and then erased so many times that the paper has worn thin. There's also a yellow smudge from the mustard that dribbled off his hot dog and a wet corner from where it took a dip in his beer.

"No, the pitcher fielded Jeter's grounder and threw it to first base to get him out, so you need to mark it '1-3' on that line," she corrects him for the hundredth time.

"But I like my frowning face better. It's more artistic and yet it still manages to convey the fact that Jeter was out. In fact I'm going to fill out the rest of the card with just smiley faces. Just think of all the different variations I could use – the frown, the winking smile, the tongue poking out face."

He's being so ridiculous that she has to laugh. It's the wide mouth, snorting-until-she's-breathless, full body laugh that he seems to pull effortlessly from her. Maybe it's that pure emotion that catches the eye of the cameraman because suddenly the two of them are flashed up on the jumbotron.

"Hey look," Rick notices it first and points out their images to Kate.

"Kiss. Kiss. Kiss," the crowd around them takes up the chant.

Kate looks around them in bemusement at all the strangers who are urging them to kiss. Castle is grinning widely when she finally looks back at him.

"We'd better give them what they want or there might be a riot," he grabs her shoulders as he hams it up for the camera.

Beckett shakes her head in embarrassment but she's smiling and there's no real protest as he puckers his lips before laying a big one on her. The crowd erupts into applause as the kiss lingers on and on. When they finally part Kate is breathless and Rick stands to take a bow; the well-pleased smile on his face is like the cat that got the cream.

She pulls him back into his seat and the camera moves back to the action on the field.

"Castle, that was so cheesy." The crazy idiot is still grinning madly and she can't help but grin back at him.

"Maybe it was. I'd better try again; I wouldn't want to leave a bad impression." He kisses her again and this time there's no-one looking and there's no applause but this time it's perfect.

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and especially those who reviewed. It took me a long time to finish this story because I had a bad case of writer's block in the middle but the encouragement definitely helped. Thanks especially to fanficfan39 who said that they wanted to read about Rick and Kate at the game and gave me the idea about how to finish this off.**


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